#is the only person who never ever questioned that it existed in the first place

[moomuzan]

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖉𝖔𝖝

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ you came back after leaving

them behind but you changed ( angst )

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ atsushi , dazai , chuuya

The world had changed. The war had raged on, and the skies above had bled crimson in places, swallowing the remnants of whatever hope had once dared to exist. It felt as though time itself had grown weary, dragging itself forward with an inevitability that crushed all those who dared to live within it. Dazai had once been capable of smiling in the face of the void, of charming away the pain, but that was before. Before everything that had been broken beyond repair.

Before you.

It was the first time he'd seen you since that day—the day you'd walked away, leaving him with nothing but the weight of your absence and the echoes of your silence. The day he had destroyed you, leaving a part of you dead inside, while he continued on, oblivious to the irreversible damage he had caused. And now, years later, here you were—standing before him, stronger than ever. Colder. Unforgiving. Your face unreadable, but your presence unmistakable. It was as if you had been forged in the fires of the very pain he had given you, the flame of that pain now smoldering in the depths of your eyes.

The mafia executive had never imagined he would see you again. And yet here you were, like a ghost brought back to life, and it was as if the world had paused for a moment, holding its breath in anticipation.

You had moved on, hadn't you? He could see it in the way you held yourself, in the way you walked into the room as though you owned it—your posture, your calm. It wasn't just strength; it was detachment. A disconnection so profound that it almost made him want to turn away, to pretend that he hadn't recognized the bitterness hiding just beneath the surface of your cold composure.

But how could he? How could he look away from the one person who had once held him together, who had made him feel alive when he thought he had long been dead inside? You had been the warmth, the light he never thought he deserved, and yet there you were, untouchable now. You had rebuilt yourself, piece by piece, like a monument to everything he had ruined.

Oh, and Dazai… Dazai had continued down his path of destruction, only to find that, without you, it was all hollow. His smile no longer reached his eyes. His jokes no longer sounded funny. His games had lost their meaning. You had been his anchor, the quiet calm that kept him grounded in a world that was far too chaotic for someone like him.

Though, that was all before you had walked away.

With trembling hands he stepped forward, just a few inches closer, as if proximity could somehow heal the fracture, mend what had been torn apart. He opened his mouth, but no words came. What could he say? “I’m sorry” felt so inadequate, so weak in comparison to the years that had stretched between the two of you. There were no words that could make up for the way he had abandoned you, for the way he had left you to bleed in silence, to rebuild a life without him. How could he even begin to ask for forgiveness when he knew he didn't deserve it?

Oddly so, you hadn't even flinched. The years had done their work on you, turning you into something almost unrecognizable. Dazai could barely remember the softness of your smile, the warmth of your touch. He could only see the coldness in your gaze now, the way your eyes scanned him, unreadable, and it was as if you were studying a ghost—someone who had long since lost the right to be remembered.

Of course, he was selfish for wanting to reach out, for wanting to pull you back into his world. Dazai had never been good at understanding what love meant, but now, with you standing there, so far beyond him, he finally understood the one thing he had never fully realized: he had lost you.

Yet, the realization was like a blade to his chest.

"Why are you here?" The question hung in the air, your voice distant, almost cold. It wasn’t anger, not exactly. It was just… nothing. A lack of care that stung more than anything else.

Dazai couldn’t answer. What could he say? He couldn’t explain the guilt that weighed on him like an anchor, dragging him under with each breath, let alone explain how much he had tried to drown it with distractions, with hollow pleasures, but the truth had always lurked there, quietly, in the back of his mind: You had left him behind, and there was nothing he could do to undo it.

"You’ve changed," he finally managed, though the words tasted bitter on his tongue.

After all, he had seen it all—the walls you had built around yourself, the sharpness in your every movement. Although you became a fortress, it was clear you hadn’t come back to him—not for redemption, not for forgiveness but something else, something he couldn’t name.

A heavy, suffocating weight in his chest, his heart ached. Then, without thinking, he moved toward you—just a step, his hand outstretched, like a desperate attempt to pull the thread that connected him to you. Taking a step back, not sharply, but enough to remind him, in that brief space, that he no longer held any place in your world.

The distance between you—a reminder of everything he had lost— and the way you seemed so unaffected by his presence hurt more than he could have ever prepared for. The warmth, the laughter, the gentleness that used to fill the room when you were near—gone, just like that. He had let it slip through his fingers, and now, he was left with nothing but the remnants of his mistakes.

He should’ve let you go a long time ago. Maybe, then, he wouldn’t have to feel this. But as you turned your back on him and walked away, he realized something he hadn’t fully understood until now:

He wasn’t just losing you. He was losing himself.

,

Chuuya hadn’t expected to see you again. Ever. Time and time again, the mafia executive had told himself he was prepared for anything but in reality he wasn’t. Not for this. Not for you.

The moment you stepped back into the Mafia, a cold shiver ran down his spine, the weight of your presence crashing into him like a tidal wave. You, strong and untouchable, your eyes like steel, colder than they had ever been before. You walked past him without a glance, your every step deliberate, calculated—you were different. No longer the fragile thing he could manipulate, no longer the girl who clung to him for safety. You had found your own footing, found your own power. And Chuuya, the man who had once held your heart in his hands, felt that power slip through his fingers like sand.

Faster than any punch he’d ever taken, the memories, the pain, the hurt struck him forcefully. You were back, though you weren’t his anymore. You never were, in the first place. And he could no longer deny it.

It had all been a lie, hadn’t it? A fleeting moment of weakness. Chuuya had told himself he had been ready, ready for something real, something meaningful. But he had failed you. With a fierceness he hadn’t deserved, you had trusted him, loved him, and for a time, he’d loved you back—but that was before his insecurities and the constant weight of his role in the Mafia had consumed him. Before he had pushed you away, never fully realizing what he had until it was gone.

He had messed up. He had shattered the only real thing in his life, and you had left.

Now you were back, stronger than ever, but Chuuya couldn’t bring himself to even meet your gaze. He was terrified. Terrified of what you had become, terrified of how you would make him feel. Terrified of the truth.

You had walked out the door once before, and now you walked back in—but it wasn’t with the same tender love he remembered. It was with an edge, a coldness that cut deeper than any blade ever could. You had changed, and he was left standing in the wreckage of his own failure, unable to piece together the broken parts of his heart that he had left scattered on the floor when you’d walked away.

As the quiet hum of the Mafia’s operations echoed around him, he stood in the hallway, eyes burning from the strain of keeping them from looking at you. You hadn’t spoken yet, but he could hear the silent promise in your footsteps. The way you moved with purpose now, no longer the fragile thing who needed his protection, no longer the one who had fallen in love with the man who couldn’t be anything but broken.

Hastily, Swiftly, his mind dashed with every emotion he couldn’t express. Regret. Guilt. Longing. Desperation. Racing against the inevitability of this moment, the man could feel it—his heart, beating too fast in his chest. Being stronger, a mere weapon now, you were back, but it was too late. Your gaze was colder, sharper. replaced by a distance that made his breath catch in his throat, the softness he had once adored was gone.

Finding you later in the same office he had once spent hours in with you, where he had whispered promises he couldn’t keep, where he had kissed you with a tenderness that felt so out of reach now, you didn’t look at him when he entered, didn’t acknowledge his presence at all. But he couldn’t leave—not now, not when everything was finally unraveling.

“Why are you here?” His voice came out harsher than he intended, though the vulnerability underneath it was impossible to ignore. He wanted to ask why you had come back, why you were still here, when you’d already turned your back on him once. But the words stuck in his throat. He didn’t deserve an answer. He didn’t deserve anything from you.

Naturally, you didn’t respond, only glanced up at him, the same unreadable gaze locked onto his. And it hit him then—the full weight of everything he had lost.

You were no longer his. And just maybe you never had been.

“I’m not here for you.” Sharp, colder than he had ever heard them, those words cut through the air like a dagger, slicing into him. He flinched at the finality in your tone, the indifference that dripped from your every word. It wasn’t just anger; it was something worse. It was disappointment. He had disappointed you, let you down, and now you were back only because the Mafia had pulled you in once again. You had no other choice, perhaps, but he had no place in your world anymore.

“I don’t need you, Chuuya.” The words were like a slap to the face. I don’t need you. You didn’t need his protection. You didn’t need his love. You didn’t need him, and he knew it now.

Frozen in place he lingered, every part of him screaming with a mix of guilt and longing that only deepened with every passing second. Why had he done this to you?

“Then why come back?” he finally asked, the question tumbling out before he could stop it. His voice cracked, his fists clenched at his sides, though he could feel the tightness in his chest, the desperation to fix it gnawing at him. But he knew better now. There was nothing left to fix.

Not saying anything, you simply turned your back to him and continued with your work, as though he was nothing more than a shadow in the room—a shadow that had long overstayed its welcome. Chuuya didn’t move, didn’t speak, and yet every fiber of his being screamed at him to do something.

But he couldn’t. Not anymore. In letting you go, he had let everything go.

You were gone long before you had ever left.

And now, in this room, with the echoes of your long lost kisses ringing through the air, Chuuya realized—he had lost you forever.

,

Atsushi could feel the weight of the guilt bearing down on him every time his eyes flickered toward you. You, standing there at the Agency, once a place where you had built a quiet camaraderie, a partnership, a friendship, perhaps something more, but not anymore. No, now you were back—silent, distant, colder than the person he remembered. Your presence felt like a distant storm he could never stop, a reminder of his failure, of the moment he had let you down when you had trusted him with everything. He had failed you, and now, all that remained was the hollow ache of knowing that you were no longer his to protect, to care for, to love.

It had happened on the mission, one that should have been simple, too easy. But nothing was simple with the Agency. Nothing was ever as clear-cut as it seemed. Atsushi had failed you. He had promised you safety, promised you that he would keep you out of harm’s way, and yet—when the enemy had ambushed you, when everything had spiraled out of control, it was his hesitation that had cost you. He was too slow, too unsure. He couldn’t protect you. And in that moment, when the chaos had subsided, and he had finally made it to where you lay—injured, bleeding, far too much damage for him to fix—he had seen it. He had seen the trust in your eyes, the trust that had been so effortlessly given, that now burned with something darker. Something much more disappointing.

Now that you were back it was clear that your return was not for him. It wasn’t for the connection you once shared. You had returned because it was your duty. The same duty that had pulled you into the web of the Agency. The same duty that had cost you so much already. The same duty that had now made you a mere shadow of the person you had been before, as though the life you had once known had been stripped away, piece by piece, until only the remnants of a mission-driven soldier remained.

Sensing that shift in your very nature the moment you walked back into the Agency, the warmth that once radiated from you had long faded and was replaced by an icy calm that unsettled him. Your smile, which had once been a beacon of light in his darkest moments, had now become something distant, something he could never touch again. You were no longer the person he had leaned on, no longer the person who had trusted him without question.

The man, hopelessly so, wanted to reach out to you, ask how you were, apologize, but every word caught in his throat. How could he speak when he had broken you so thoroughly? How could he ask for anything when he had taken away the one thing that had made you human? You were a soldier now, not the woman who had once shown him warmth, who had held his hand when he needed it most.

At a distance, he watched you, as you walked through the halls of the Agency. Your eyes never meeting his unless it was required, you were always on the move, always busy. You had no time for him, and he couldn’t blame you. How could you have any time for him after what had happened?

The night came, and the quiet tension between you two hung in the air, a suffocating cloud that neither of you dared to break. Atsushi sat at his desk, pretending to work, pretending to be okay. But his mind never strayed far from you. He couldn’t focus. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the image of you lying on the ground, the blood staining the earth beneath you, staining his soul with the knowledge that he had failed you when it mattered most.

And yet, he knew, deep down, that even if he had been faster, even if he had done everything differently, it might not have been enough. The mission was too dangerous. The odds were stacked against both of you. He hadn’t had the strength to protect you then, and now he had lost that chance forever.

The door to his office creaked open, though he barely looked up. He didn’t need to, of course. He already knew who it was. You.

“Need something?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, thick with guilt. He didn’t dare to look at you, didn’t dare to face the disappointment that he could still see lingering in the air around you. He had nothing to offer anymore. Nothing that could undo the damage he had done.

There was a long pause, and then you spoke, your voice flat, emotionless. "Just following up on the mission report."

Instantly, his heart sank. You were still distant, still cold—the very things that he had tried to shield you from. You had never wanted this, had never wanted to become something like this, never wanted to be the person who walked in and out of his life without a second glance. But here you were.

“Right,” he said, his voice breaking just slightly, though he hated how weak it sounded. “I’ll finish it up. You can go.”

Not even pausing, not even looking back, you walked out, leaving him alone with the suffocating silence that clung to the room like a curse.

Although the weretiger had broken you, you had never given him a chance to make it right. You didn’t have to, didn’t need to. He was nothing now, a hollow shell of the man you once trusted. And in this moment, Atsushi realized the truth of it all—the truth he had been denying to himself for so long: he could never undo what had been done. And you would never trust him again.

You were back, but it wasn’t for him. It never had been. You were here because you had no other choice, and he was just a piece of the past you had left behind—torn and broken beyond repair.

[azelsdoormat]

Azel Radwan Main Story

► Chapter 1

This translation is fanmade and strictly for entertainment purposes only. All media and original content belong to Cybird. Do not use, claim as your own, repost or reupload onto other platforms, reblogs are welcome.

I still don’t know what love is. 

But I want to someday fall in love and understand what it is. 

A passionate love like a rose set ablaze, and a fierce love that stays on for eternity like a woven tale. 

???: I see, I see…

???: How utterly laughable.

(... Who is that?) 

The usual dream I had every night changed the night before I set out on my trip to a foreign country.

It was set in a rose garden where the roses were still tightly closed buds. The space felt undeveloped and incomplete.

There stood an unfamiliar visitor, reading an unfinished tale from a book placed on an oak table.

His appearance was otherworldly, unlike that of any ordinary person.

His hair shimmered under the light of the massive moon hanging from the sky, and his eyes seemed to contain a starry sky within.

That divine, beautiful being who seemed to blend well with the dream’s space gave me a mocking grin as I approached.

Emma: What’s… laughable?

???: I have some unfortunate news for you, who yearns for love and thirsts for knowledge of what it is.

???: Love is not the grand blessing it is often proclaimed to be. 

???: Sometimes, it would serve you well to remain ignorant and pure for your entire life. You would find far greater happiness that way.

I didn't know what he read from that unfinished tale. 

But this “something”, who clearly wasn't human, directly and utterly rejected what laid at the very core of my heart. 

Emma: And how can you be so sure of that?

???: Because I am a god. 

(... God?) 

???: I have witnessed many examples of “love”. Not in fiction… but rather the raw, unvarnished love that exists in.

???: Far too often, people use “love” as a means to justify their otherwise unjustifiable actions.

???: It is truly tragic to see people driven mad by love.

???: Even the most rational people become unable to live without it.

???: Like a curse.

Emma: …

???: Judging from this dreamscape shrouded in thorns, you must be a lady from Rhodolite.

???: Rhodolite had such a tale too, did it not? About a king who turned into a beast after losing his beloved. 

Emma: … While the story of the late Belle and the king may have been a tragedy, that doesn't mean all love must end the same way. 

???: Fair enough. However, not all love will end as a comedy either. 

???: Why do you yearn for love? 

Words caught in my throat upon hearing the god’s question.

There was no special reason for my yearning. 

It was nothing more than mere admiration, I had never deeply thought about what love truly meant. 

For the first time, I realised that my yearning was but an empty shell.

???: At the very least, love is something I would very much rather do without.

???: — For I am a god incapable of loving people. 

…

(……ん……)

(... Mm…)

Awaken by gentle sunlight streaming through the window, I opened my eyes to see the familiar ceiling of my room in town.

The unbloomed roses and the god who denied love both vanished as though they were nothing more than an illusion.

As I woke up, memories of the dream began crumbling away and were gradually replaced by reality. 

But a fragment of that dream lingered in my heart, refusing to disappear.

(“Love is a curse”... huh.) 

???: Emma, you up? 

A knock on my door banished the remaining drowsiness from my mind.

(This voice… Rio?)

Emma: Sorry, just a minute!

???: Ah, no worries. I’m a gentleman, I’ll wait for as long as you need.

(... I think I just heard a voice that wasn't Rio’s…)

Feeling slightly uneasy, I hurriedly got dressed, washed my face, and tidied myself up before opening the door. 

…

Standing at my front door was my friend, who left his position as a butler to return to town with me, greeting me with his ever so radiant smile. 

Rio: Good morning! You’re absolutely adorable today, as always!

Emma: Yeah, yeah, thanks as usual.

Emma: … What brings you here this early in the morning?

Rio: I came to visit because I just had to see your face.

Rio: And I bought bread. Want to enjoy it together? 

Emma: Thanks, I’d love to. Mmm, smells good…

Rio: It’s from your favourite bakery. They launched a new “fortune bread” today.

Emma: Fortune bread? That’s interesting! 

Clavis: Wait, wait, Emma. We have some more important matters to focus on than bread right now, don't we?

A man forced himself between us and snatched the bag of bread.

(So I wasn't imagining things when I thought I heard another voice.)

I stopped avoiding reality as a means of self-defence and turned to face the country’s most notorious troublemaker— a certain prince with a shady smile. 

Emma: It’s been a while, Clavis. 

Clavis: You could've jumped straight into my arms right off the bat, you know?

Emma: Thank you for kind consideration. Why are you here?

Clavis: Hmm, what do you think?

???: Enough with the theatrics and just tell her already. 

(Huh…?) 

My eyes widened when I saw a tall figure sitting on a wooden crate some distance away.

Emma: Luke’s here too!?

Luke: Oops. My bad, I invited myself into the conversation too early.

Rio: I coincidentally ran into Clavis and Luke earlier on.

Rio: Though, they didn't tell me what they’re here for… 

(I was just thinking it was rare for Rio to come visit me so early in the morning… maybe he’s worried about me.)

Luke stood up from the wooden crate and raised the paper bag he had in his hand.

Luke: Mind if we join you for breakfast?

…

My modest home where I, a commoner, lived was now filled with two princes and my former butler friend…

Our surroundings were both physically and emotionally stuffy. 

Clavis: Emma, you’re heading to Tanzanite soon, right? 

Rio: Ugh… 

The freshly baked bread, along with the sweets Luke brought, bounced slightly when Rio hit his head against a corner of the table.

Clavis: What's the matter?

Rio: … I lose control of myself whenever I hear about that.

Rio: The thought of not being able to see my angel, my goddess, my beautiful fairy Emma… 

Luke: You’re such a drama queen.

(When I first told Rio about my trip, he was completely broken. I guess this counts as an improvement.) 

[ Flashback ] 

Rio: — Emma’s going to Tanzanite…

Emma: Rio, are you okay!? You hit your head on the bookshelf really hard…

Rio: I’m okay… but… why… 

Emma: I’ve heard many stories about foreign countries from the Owner, but I’m most interested in the god who can perform infallible divinations. 

Emma: If such a god really exists, I’d like to meet them even just once. 

Emma: Besides, Tanzanite’s a popular tourist destination. 

Emma: It’s a country in the dessert, but I think it's a good choice of destination for my first trip. 

[ Flashback End ]

(I feel bad for nearly causing Rio to pass out, but…)

(I’ve been really excited every day ever since deciding to travel to Tanzanite.)

Luke: I’m surprised you’re not going with her. 

Rio: The Owner told me to look after the bookstore while she’s away. 

Rio: I really do want to go with her!! What if something happens to her when I’m not there…!? 

Rio: But if staying behind will help Emma feel more at ease on her trip, then I… I’ll… 

Clavis: Haha, you can be rest assured about that. 

Clavis tore off a piece of the bread in his hand and ate it, savouring it in delight before swallowing. 

Clavis: Because we’ll be her bodyguards in your place.

Rio: Oh, is that true? Thank goodness, I feel relieved—

Rio: — Wait, that won’t do—! What is that supposed to mean!? 

(Seriously, what does he mean by that!?) 

I almost dropped my fortune bread but managed to catch it in a panic. 

Clavis: I mean exactly what I said. 

Luke: We’re going to Tanzanite too. 

Luke stuffed a whole honey-coated pastry in his mouth and licked his fingers.

Luke: I didn't wanna go at first because it’s too bothersome, but Chevalier ordered me to take care of some diplomatic matters.

(Going to Tanzanite during this period of time means…)

[ Flashback ] 

Akatsuki: Politics have been unstable lately.

Emma: Is it because of… the Three-Nation  Alliance?

Akatsuki: Yeah. None of the countries have made any moves at the moment, but this feels like the calm before a storm. 

[ Flashback End ]

(... I’m an outsider now, so it’s best for me to refrain from getting involved.) 

Clavis: Since we’re all leaving for Tanzanite at around the same time, why don't you come with us?

Clavis: We plan to take the route that passes through Benitoite. If you ride on the royal ship, your transportation is basically free. 

Clavis: I can already picture you crying tears of joy. Ah, you don't even have to say it, I already know.

Clavis: You’re so lucky to have the privilege of travelling to a foreign country with your beloved Clavis— 

Rio: OBJECTION! 

Rio shot up from his seat with a start in the cramped room and pointed a finger at Clavis.

Rio: People always say that there's nothing scarier than something that comes free. What's your real motive? Out with it. 

(As expected of Rio. That’s what I want to know too.)

Clavis took a deliberate sip of the tea I brewed and paused as though to savour it…

His wet lips then curled into a meaningful and bold smile.

Clavis: What do you think?

Luke: Don't say such things that mess with people. There's no deeper meaning at all. 

Clavis: Read the room, Luke. 

Luke: You read the room. 

Luke: This guy ordered every official to report anything interesting about Emma to him. 

Emma: So you were made aware of my trip to Tanzanite because…

Luke: The official who issued your travel permit ratted you out. 

Emma: Is that not abuse of power!? 

Clavis: What are you talking about? It’s for work.

Luke: This guy found out about your first ever trip and got all “amused” by it. 

Luke: He even volunteered to personally make a trip to Tanzanite, and I got stuck with the job of babysitting him thanks to Nokto. 

Luke: He said “I feel bad for Emma, so I’ll send at least one sensible person to go along”. 

(Thanks, Nokto!) 

Luke: But if you’d rather not deal with his crap, I’ll take personal responsibility to bury Clavis in the woods for you. 

Clavis: No need to worry about that. Emma is shaking with excitement, isn't she?

Luke: … You should get your eyes checked out before we leave the country.

Rio … I’m worried. I’m very worried.

(Since I’m not travelling alone, I should probably discuss this with the Owner…) 

(But with both Clavis and Luke accompanying me, having familiar faces in an unfamiliar land does make me feel more assured.)

After mulling it over, I furrowed my brows and tore the fortune bread in half.

Emma: Oh?

(Something fell out from inside.)

It was a small porcelain figurine that resembled a horse with a horn, standing proudly in my palm. 

Rio: As expected of Emma! You hit the jackpot.

Clavis: Hm… the unicorn is indeed currently considered the continent-wide ultimate symbol of “good luck”. 

Emma: Is that so?

Clavis: Yeah. You should keep it as a good luck charm. What a great start to your journey. 

Clavis: After all, unicorns hold a special symbolism in a country in the desert. 

(I don't exactly associate unicorns with deserts, though…) 

Emma: If that’s the case, it does seem like it’ll bring me blessings.

Luke: You’re always a good person, anyway. Even without a unicorn, I bet lots of positive things will happen to you. 

I gently cupped the unicorn figurine in my hand. 

The unexpected stroke of luck felt encouraging, like it was telling me that my current most honest feelings were right. 

Clavis: So, Emma, you’re travelling together with us, right…? 

…

The gateway to Tanzanite, the country of deserts, divinations and illusions was a bustling port thriving with merchants, much like Benitoite. 

…

Emma: We’re in Tanzanite! 

(Although… I expected more sandstorms because I was told that it’s in a desert.) 

The lively streets looked nothing like a desert.

However, the animals roaming the streets and the people’s clothing were clearly distinct from those in Rhodolite or Benitoite. 

Along with the scent of spices wafting through the air, it was undeniable that we were now on foreign land. 

(We’ve really come a long way.)

Akatsuki: Our destination is still far from here. It’s too early to get excited. 

The Owner, carrying loads of goods for trading, came to stand next to me. 

I was carrying a bag filled with books myself, but it was nothing compared to his load. 

Emma: Should I help carry some of that?

Akatsuki: No need. I usually carry it all by myself.

(That's easily 100 books over there… I can't believe he carries them alone.) 

Clavis: We offered to help too, but Akatsuki sure is hardworking.

Luke: I told Emma I’d help carry her stuff too. 

Clavis and Luke whom we travelled on the same ship with packed lightly as compared to us. 

Emma: Thanks. But since this is my first time sourcing for goods, I want to carry my own baggage. 

Emma: Selling books in a foreign country and purchasing new ones…

Emma: I’m so excited to see how greatly my bag’s contents will change on the way back to Rhodolite.

Luke: Someone’s being really energetic.

Clavis: Akatsuki is lucky to have such a good assistant too.

Clavis: By the way, where are you two headed to after this?

Akatsuki: We’re meeting someone.

Emma: … We are? 

I followed the Owner’s gaze that shifted unnaturally and saw a strikingly beautiful woman standing there. 

(Wow…) 

She wore vibrant ruby red clothing and was adorned in glamorous accessories that rivaled the Owner’s outfit. 

Standing next to her was a bespectacled man with a gentle appearance. He smiled when he noticed us and approached.

Bespectacled Man: We’ve been expecting you, Akatsuki. And this is…?

Emma: I’m Emma, I came as the Owner’s assistant. 

Basil: Ah, I read about you in the letter. A pleasure to meet you, please call me Basil. 

Basil: And this lady over here is Kamal.

Kamal: …

Kamal smiled seductively and pulled out a stack of papers from which she showed me a piece with the words “it’s nice to meet you” written on it. 

Basil: As you can see, Kamal can’t speak. Please communicate with her through writing. 

(I see…)

Emma: Understood. I look forward to working with you both.

Clavis: … Hm.

As we exchanged pleasantries, Clavis stood nearby rubbing his chin. 

Clavis: You must be emissaries of the living god, correct? 

(... Huh?)

Basil: Well done! You noticed right away. 

Clavis: The symbols of faith you wear make it easy to figure out. 

Clavis pointed at his own chest.

Basil and Kamal gestured to their chests too, where the clasps of their cloaks were fastened. 

(... Now that I took a proper look at them, the clasps have unicorns on them.)

(Are those the “symbols of faith”?) 

Clavis: I was told in the past that the unicorn ornaments are worn by those who are close to god. 

Clavis: And a few years ago, I recall hearing about a book merchant Azel especially favoured. 

Clavis: I had my suspicions, but it seems that Akatsuki has some rather prominent clients. 

Emma: Is god… one of your clients? 

Akatsuki: Regardless of whether they’re god or royalty, a client is a client. Nothing more, nothing less.

(He never mentioned this to me!)

The Owner whose facial expression remained unchanged suddenly appeared far more impressive than I had initially thought of him to be. 

Basil: We have always been the ones to guide Akatsuki during his visits to Tanzanite. 

Basil: Prince Clavis, Prince Luke, please proceed in that direction. Emissaries from the Royal Court are waiting for you. 

Clavis: Haha, not only for me but for Luke the newcomer too? How insightful indeed. 

Clavis: Rhodolite didn’t send any prior notice about who would be coming. Is this another prophecy from the living god? 

(...!) 

Basil: That’s correct. Lord Azel is truly impressive. Is this a good time to talk about it? It is, right?

(He suddenly started speaking really fast…) 

Kamal mercilessly smacked Basil on the head as he adjusted his glasses. 

She then took out her stack of papers again and showed us the one that said “let’s go”. 

(... That sounded like she hit hard enough to crack his skull. Is he okay?) 

Luke: Then I guess this is where we go our own ways.

Clavis: I’ll personally come to meet you again, Emma. Before you start crying from loneliness. 

Emma: I don't think I will, but until next time. 

(So… we’re going straight to meet the god now, right?)

(I’m starting to get nervous.)

(I wonder what kind of person a living god is like.)

…

Azel: Thank you for taking the trouble to come all the way out to such a remote location.

Emma: Oh!

[the-voldsoy]

Alrighty it is almost the end of the year so, in no particular order, here are podcasts I recommend of the ones I've listened to this year! (let me tell you picking favourites for this was So hard) (Unfortunately I can't just do all of them because there are almost 50)

Hello From The Hallowoods: The world ended, but we're still here, and shit's weird. (Has made me cry; even the trees are queer; my comfort show<3)

Camp Here And There: Good morning campers! The time is 7:63AM and Cabin Magpie Moth has spontaneously combusted! Whichever one of you little woodworms can put it out first can come get a puffy sticker from me in the Nurses Cabin! (Is it a horror? Is it a comedy? I don't know, you'd have to check to be sure)

Wooden Overcoats: Funn Funerals used to be the only funeral parlor on the island. It isn't anymore. (Sitcom, the main characters are the most miserable wet cats you ever did see)

Re: Dracula: Maybe this year, they'll be okay. Maybe this year they'll all live. Maybe this year he won't go, and she'll be alright.

Magnus Protocol: TMA's louder, bolder, less serious younger sibling.

The Silt Verses: Oh boy. Let me tell you, you will look at crabs differently after this. (WET horror, genuinely the best pod I've ever heard)

Archive 81: Dan, a newly hired archivist, has to listen to and catalogue a set of old audio tapes. The tapes contain interviews conducted by someone Dan has never heard of. Dan is in an isolated bunker in the middle of the woods. Surely nothing will happen to our dear friend Dan. (What is it with archivists and getting snatched by The Horrors? Ignore the tv show it doesn't exist)

Red Valley: Just a couple of guys with an interest in research station Red Valley, whose focus was cryonics. It's completely defunct now. I wonder what happened. (Ethics? What's that?)

Woe.Begone: Some say it's about time-travel, some say it's about keeping yourself and those close to you alive, some say it's about online safety. All can agree on one point: What the fuck why are there cowboys now

Midnight Burger: Midnight Burger is a time-travelling, dimension-spanning diner. Dunno how it works or where it's going next. We open at six! (The episodes are an hour long minimum but it's worth it. Comedy sci-fi, lighthearted fun :)

Old Gods of Appalachia: The Appalachians are spooky y'all. (The narrator's voice is so comforting in this, it feels like campfire stories)

Dreamboy: Went into this pod being told it was made by the people who made WTNV and absolutely no other information. Let me tell you I did not expect the main character to tell us that he got a hard-on in the first episode. (The most sexually explicit pod I've listened to)

The White Vault: Nice little trip to Svalbard to check on the remote research station, surely nothing will go wrong :) (Holy Fucking Shit What Is That) (Recommend 1st season especially to The Thing (1982) enjoyers)

Camlann: Ever wished that you were apart of Welsh folklore or Arthurian legends? Or perhaps some of the last people left on Earth? No? Ah well, you'll pick it up soon enough. (Three idiots and a dog in Wales, fighting for their lives)

Breaker Whiskey: Imagine. Being the only person on earth. Just you. Just you, and someone on the radio. Just you, the radio, and a woman you absolutely do NOT have sexual tension with. (This one looks really long because it has 260+ episodes, but they're like 4 minutes long each so it's not really)

Ethics Town: Don't worry about it. (Cannot recommend enough, it is a mindfuck)

Tell No Tales: What if ghosts were a thing that could infest a place, like rats or roaches or mold? What if it was your job to exterminate them? And the million-pound question, do ghosts deserve rights? (I am waiting so so patiently for the rest of s2)

Remnants: You wake up in a place you recognise. You have always been there. You have no idea where you are. You see a stranger's life. You recognise them. You knew them once, you think. Discard or reshelve? You don't know what that means. It does not matter. Discard or reshelve, that is the question. (I am going insane over this pod)

Not Quite Dead: Vampires! Alfie is an overworked A&E nurse who does not have time for this shit. Unfortunately, he does not have a choice in this matter. (A really interesting take on vampirism, going into the biology. It is fascinating, and an exciting story)

Travelling Light: Space Quaker! Listen to the Traveller tell you about every new planet and civilisation they visit. Whattttt noooo they don't have a crush on one of their crew members what are you taaaalking abouttttt (Very comforting pod, beauty in the mundane in a way? But not mundane because yk. Aliens)

Someone Just Like You: Brilliant horror, just really well written. I don't even have words for it. So far there are only 6 episodes and the concepts/plots of each seem cheesy, but my GOD the execution.

The Bright Sessions: People with powers get therapy! Thank God, they need it so bad. (I love one particular antagonist so much, I need to put him in a microwave)

Poe: Evermore: It wasn't until I started this that I realised that Edgar Allen Poe would have had a Boston-ish accent. Reallyyy interesting story of his life, and I keep getting jumpscared by VAs I recognise. Faulkner Silt Verses what are you doing here.

Witherburn After School News: Your school radio host getting WAY more involved in the news than they should. Really hope they're still breathing. Love the folklore section though!

Before The Tone: Voicemails from someone who just got a job they probably shouldn't have. (Brilliant idea for the format, and great execution)

I Am In Eskew: What if you were trapped? What if you had a home, a wife and a child? What if they aren't real? Are you sure? Go and check. What if your city tried to kill you? What if it loved you very much, more than anyone else? (Horror but the narrator is the saddest wettest man you've ever heard)

Sherlock & Co: Modern day Sherlock Holmes, and John Watson is a true crime podcaster. Dear God I did not think it would be as compelling as it is.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

One of the problems I had with the online radicalization of Jalil in reunion is how it actually occurs. Jalil is supposedly radicalized by a message board, but it’s provided by alliance and the AI mascot he uses is Lila. So it’s left muddled on what exactly is happening here.

Is there really an internet based opposition to LB and CN? You wouldn’t think it since Paris enlarge is shown to still support them. But the presence of message boards would imply at least some support for monarch even if it’s mostly trolls. Or is alliance fabricating it for Gabriel to upset people in a targeted way? Or is it just Lila with a bunch of alt accounts? It’s really hard for me to tell just how wide spread this is as a problem for Paris considering it’s dropped after this one episode.

I'm also not sure how seriously we're supposed to take the criticism shown in that episode. It feels very much like the sort of BS we get with Su-Han where he points out a legitimate concern but in the most obnoxious, inflammatory way possible so that the audience feels forced to disagree with him. It's terrible writing that isn't very fun to watch. Reminds me of all the awful live-action Disney reboots that try to engage with every critical take anyone has ever had, leading to a lesser story. They would be much better off to just ignore the criticism they don't want to properly address and have fun with the story even if there's an arguable flaw. That's what suspension of disbelief is all about!

You want Paris to support Ladybug and Chat Noir no matter what they do? Cool! That works! Just don't take an episode and introduce the idea that there is actually criticism out there because that makes us start to question things like anon is doing here.

Another great example is the "issue" that Gabriel never uses the butterfly miraculous to heal his wife when it feels like that should be within its power. The show was totally correct to never address that on screen because the butterfly probably should be able to heal her! The reason it can't is because then the show would end. If the writers tried to explain an in-universe reason, then it would be as nonsensical as their explanation of how the rooster works:

Gabriel: There! (to Orikko) You! You can grant me any power I want! (closes the Grimoire and walks toward Orikko) You will give me the power to travel through time! Orikko: No, you're mistaken! Time travel is Fluff's power and I can't grant the power that already belongs to another Kwami! Gabriel: Are you trying to deceive me?? Orikko: (nods) By all means! Read the Grimoire again! (Gabriel reopens the Grimoire.) Sass: Each Kwami represents a concept, and a concept can only exist once in the universe. Xuppu: Too complicated, Sass! Let's use an example to make things simpler. Take Tikki, she is the Kwami of Creation, and creation is creation, and if there's another creation than creation, then it's not "creation", it's "replication"! Gabriel: Then grant me the power to locate Ladybug and Cat Noir's Miraculous! Orikko: Trouble is, that's not a power; that's a wish! Xuppu: For instance, if I asked Santa for a pair of socks, that's a wish. But if I want Santa to grant me the power to knit socks, then it means Santa needs to know how to knit socks in the first place so he can teach me! Gabriel: (groans angrily) Grant me the power to unmask Ladybug and Cat Noir's secret identities! Xuppu: No can do! Orikko: (shoves Xuppu away) I cannot give a power that would disrupt another Kwami's magic. And being able to conceal the person behind the costume, well, that's part of the magic of their Kwami. Gabriel: (enraged) So you're utterly useless!

If all of this is true, then how do the goat and the peacock make things? Isn't that Creation? And how was the butterfly able to make a time travel villain? That's Fluff's power! And how was Gabriel able to offer to make Marinette into a villain who could unmask people via the butterfly? That's going against the miraculous' powers!

The answer is simply that the lore was not thought out in a way that stands up to even the most basic questions. When that's the case, the only way to handle the problem is to just ignore it. Keep your on screen explanations as shallow as your lore. Don't try to add depth that isn't there. Trying to address it just highlights how shitty your world building is.

[mammalsofaction]

Okay so,

A couple of weeks ago, I started getting back into my MARVEL phase, and since I had no intention of letting my Phineas and Ferb phase go in the meantime, it's cumulated into the desire of seeing a crossover. Before I remembered that a crossover existed, and it sucked. I DID end up rewatching it, and I fell asleep thinking about how wrongly it represented my favourite characters from BOTH fandoms. Natasha didn't feature, and they didnt even crack Tony out of his iron shell. They made Candace look like an idiot, and Isabella had such a small role as to be almost completely insulting.

I'm now 3/4ths of the way done, and the only reason it isn't is because I'm approaching the end of my semester, and I just got too. Overwhelmed. I really, really want to share what I have so far, because I had a TONNE of fun writing it while it was still going, and I'm already so so close to the finish line.

Context/Tags: Post Civil War, Prior to Ragnarok, featuring Irondad. Human Perry, selective mutism. OWCA is a bit more competent than usual in this fic, and while Fury doesn't completely LIKE Francis, there is an air of respect between the two of them.

This snippet mainly features the interaction between Perry, Francis, Carl, Fury, Natasha and Clint. Seeing (writing) these spies interact is at least half the reason I wanted to write this fic in the first place.

Snippet under the cut, Enjoy!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Natasha liked Perry immensely, the moment she met him.

He stands at attention just a little behind a man she assumes to be his superior; a white haired monobrow-ed man in an olive green uniform. Bartholomew "Perry" Fletcher cuts an intimidating figure, though apparently shorter in person than he seems from afar, just a little taller than Natasha herself. Much like Tony. His naturally teal hair is just as eye-catching as it had been in his profile photo, though it brings out his Australian complexion, and the brown of his eyes.

He’s dressed eclectically, in what she assumes is something of a uniform within the organisation. A brown Kevlar-and-silk waistcoat over a light teal dress shirt, pressed brown trousers and smart, steel-toed loafers, topped off with the ever-recognizable OWCA fedora.

His gaze is sharp, calculating, but not particularly unwelcome. Perry carries himself not with braggadocio, but the familiar confidence of a man who knows his own strengths, and what he brings to the table. A man who knows himself to be good at his job. Natasha should know; it is a look she sees frequently in her line of work, in the company she keeps.

Time will tell if Perry would remain among them.

“It’s a pleasure to meet the esteemed Director Fury in the flesh." Said Francis Monogram, the superior in question, eager and a little bumbling. Natasha could see Perry rolling his eyes, even standing at attention, and Clint hides his chuckle with a well-timed cough.

“I wish I could say the same." Fury says, pointedly ignoring Monogram’s outstretched hand. "You understand this is no social call.”

Francis’ thick mustache quivers unhappily. It reminds Natasha of a fat, old caterpillar. “It never is. We’re glad to be of any service we can, of course. Agent Platypus will be glad to answer any question you have."

“Yes, Agent Platypus." Fury raises his eyebrow. Perry tilts his head when addressed. "Your reputation precedes you. We’ve been told you are OWCA’s finest.”

How someone could look so expressive and professional at the same time, Natasha can’t say. But that was Perry. I do my best, sir. He signs, simple and modest.

His ASL is sharp, quick and fluid, which confirms another point from his portfolio; selective mutism. Clint had been almost delighted to know. She respects that Perry does not pull any punches regarding how well they could understand him.

Nonetheless, a curly haired, freckled child (only a little older than Peter) standing with a clipboard by Francis’ side pipes up. “He said-,"

“We know ASL, kid, that’s not necessary." Clint intercepts gently. He shares a look with Natasha before addressing Monogram. “Sorry, should he be here? Or is he done?”

"Carl is head intern of the organisation.” Monogram answers dismissively, leading the way down from the rooftop where the helicarriers had dropped them off before going their merry way downtown. "I’m afraid he goes wherever I go. He will be responsible for addressing future reports of our meeting.”

Big job for an intern. He shares another look with Natasha, and they both turn to Perry, as if to seek his unspoken opinion on the matter.

Perry gives them a subtle nod.

Natasha chooses to leave it, and follows them down the stairwell.

“I trust you’ve been briefed of our recent little…incident in New York.” Fury starts, as they all make their way through the building. Presumably for Francis’ personal office.

“I’m led to believe it was an accident." Francis says, throwing an indecipherable look over his shoulder. “The Flynn-Fletcher brothers have great untapped potential, and while we’ve had cause to doubt their intentions in light of certain…developments, I am ensured it is not for evil.”

"You think it was an accident.” Fury echoed.

At this, Francis shrugs. "Weirder things have happened in Danville.”

Natasha makes note of the unmistakable coil of tension that grows in Perry’s form with every new mention of the Flynn-Fletcher brothers. Perry clears his throat, loudly.

Francis sighs, as if he had been reminded of an incredibly tedious thing. “Our sources tell us that the boys were only involved peripherally, in any case. The ray in question hadn’t been their fault, even if it had been intercepted and collected in their satellite. The real culprit is a criminal we have been pursuing for years; a Dr Heinz Doofenshmirtz, and his latest Power-Drain-Inator.”

Clint shares another look with her, eyebrows raised. Now this was a new development. “Not the most creative name." He quips.

Francis scoffs. “I assure you, it’s more than made up for in the invention itself, as well as its effectiveness."

Natasha straightens. “So it was effective?"

“Your being here seems tangible enough proof that it was." Francis points out, and she almost hates that it’s a sensible observation. “Doofenshmirtz inventions have a 96% success rate. He is the third most dangerous villain in our database. Agent Platypus, as his nemesis, had neutralised the threat as quickly as he was able-although not quickly enough, as it seems, to fully prevent any harm.”

It is clear that the accusation of failure had been the one to hit a nerve, and Perry looks away, ashamed. Natasha almost felt tempted to reassure him; nothing more upsetting to an agent of their calibre to be accused of failure, after all. But it had a ring of truth-it was only luck that the beam had hit the Avengers after the fight had been done with, and not a second before. Tony, in particular, had been severely incapacitated.

“And where do we find this…. Doofenshmirtz?” Fury asks, as they arrive on the bullpen floor. It is not so busy, but the few OWCA agents lingering don't bother hiding their curious eyes as even when Perry sends a withering glare in their general direction. Carl ushers them all inside Monogram’s office, the largest personal space on one side of the floor.

Inside, the space is decorated with lush carpets and a grand mahogany table, like a high school Principal’s office. There are floor to ceiling windows with a view to the parking lot, as well as a clever viewpoint of the building’s entrances and exits. Not so glamorous, but Natasha could admit it was practical.

Perry closes the door behind them, and clears his throat once again. Carl jumps.

“Yes sir,” He said, adjusting his glasses. “Being a Friday, considering what we understand of his schedule, he should either be at his home address, or shopping for groceries, since Dr Doofenshmirtz gets custody of his daughter on the weekends due to an agreement with his ex-wife in the divorce. However, certain developments were brought to light that it may be…unwise to act so directly.”

Francis, who had been typing away on his computer when they had arrived, swivels the screen around to show them a purple and white themed webpage that is–on closer inspection, turns out to be an encrypted Tumblr account.

“You’re kidding." Clint says. "He blogged about it?”

“He has more professional blogs as well,” Carl says, procuring a tablet from his pocket (Not Starktech. Most networks prefer to use their own developed tech, and Natasha notes that OWCA is much the same) for Fury’s perusal. "It’s almost comically incompetent, but he also knows we stalk him, so we feel some two ways about it. I would like to bring attention to his most recent post, dated this morning.”

"Looks like he’s entertaining company.” Fury agrees, passing the tablet down to Natasha (with Clint looking over her shoulder.) “I assume you have…plans, for detainment?”

"What’s stopping us from apprehending them all at once?” Clint asks, fingers pointing to the background of the picture taken with all of their criminals in frame. "We have tangible proof of their collaboration, written confessions to their criminal intentions, we know where they are-,”

"Doofenshmirtz is a criminal no matter who he chooses to collaborate with." Francis points out. “And we have records of worse collaborations. These aren't confessions–only intentions, not yet acted out. These posts were made nearly an hour ago, where they’ve made plans to tour the Tri-State Area causing general mayhem. By all means, we don't know their plans, we don't know where they are or where they plan to be, especially considering Doofenshmirtz own historically unpredictable patterns and impulse decisions.”

"And apprehending them in public is out of the picture, I assume.” Natasha says drily. Predictably, all three OWCA operatives tense unhappily. "Too much collateral damage, as well as risk of exposure.”

"It’s not like you can do much, without solid criminal charges." Carl mutters. “Not if we detain them in the Tri-State Area. Doofenshmirtz’s little brother is the current mayor, and he’s stupidly well-regarded. His influence is wide-spread. Doofenshmirtz also has an exceedingly amicable relationship with his ex-wife, who owns a very influential legal firm. She even kept his name.”

"So we can’t pin them on jack shit, is what you’re saying.” Clint surmises. “Not until they do something drastic. Not so long they remain in the bounds of the city. And they will remain here. We know they want something from Doofenshmirtz, and they don't know how dangerous he is.”

“And how dangerous is that?" Fury asks.

Francis and Carl simultaneously glance to the side, where Perry had chosen to take position by the side of the door.

"Not much.” Carl says. "Usually.”

Natasha quirks an eyebrow.

Perry coughs, to call attention to himself, and brings his hand up in a see-saw motion with a twitch of his left eye.

He’s unpredictable, Perry signs. We mean that. He’s ambitious, single minded, and persistent, with the genius engineering know-how to walk his talk. But he follows his own rules, and standards of conduct, which are almost admirable. He also has an almost debilitating case of ADHD, prosopagnosia, and PTSD. Trying to follow his sense of logic can be…. difficult.

“I can believe that." Fury defers. "What do you suggest, Agent?”

Perry glances towards Francis, as if to ask for permission. When Francis responds with a brisk nod, Perry wastes no time.

There is a protocol in place. We call it Walking the Dog.

[withacapitalp]

tagged by: @unclewaynemunson and @thefreakandthehair

Thanks guys!!! I love getting tagged in these things

rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote and tag as many people as there are words.

“You never scared me,” Wayne managed to whisper, feeling the lump in his throat grow to the size of a boulder as he looked Eddie straight in the eyes.

Twenty nine........Jesus h Christ Liam get your shit together okay I'm actually going to attempt to do this and not cheat

@stevethehairington @steveshairychest @riality-check @flowercrowngods @henderdads @strawberryspence @stevesbipanic @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe @yournowheregirl @legitcookie @unclewaynemunson @thefreakandthehair @undreaming-fanfiction @sidekick-hero @thelastwalkingsoul @steddiealltheway @maxinemaxmayfield @maxineholtzmann @hexiewrites @laundrybiscuits @wynnyfryd @starrystevie @stargyles @sharpbutsoft @steddierthings @strangersteddierthings @matchingbatbites @blushweddinggowns @corrodedbisexual

[aliteralsemicolon]

Yours - 18+

Masterlist

Spencer never thought he’d be lucky enough to find you, but he has. You have all his devotion and all he hopes for in return is for you to let him stay yours.

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

DISCLAIMER This story contains strong themes and detailed descriptions of adult content. It is intended for mature audiences only, minors do not interact!  You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read.

WARNING: Smut: softdom! Spencer, grinding, hickies, penetration, PinV, unprotected sex (this can lead to babies & stds btw, avoid this by being fivehead and using a condom), creampie. Proceed at your own risk.

Word count: 5.3K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.

The question regarding the existence of soulmates is not a question that can be answered using science. Any individual’s answer to the question is more of a personal belief than a factual answer. And as a man of science, one would think that Spencer Reid would at least attempt to refute the ideology when asked. 

The ideology that he himself is not whole, but only half of an intertwined soul. That another person is not only his other half, but also his better half. Somebody with whom he shares such a natural, deep understanding, that he feels complete simply by existing in their presence. It’s one of those phenomena he can’t explain, but only this one, he’s confident is true. 

“Spence?” A light nudge accompanied by the whisper of his name breaks him away from his thoughts.

“Hm?” He blinks rapidly, focusing his eyesight on your curious face with a matching look.

The light from a singular bedside lamp only reaches half of his face. It casts a beautiful, soft contrast on his sharp features. The gold that’s usually hidden by the brown makes his irises look like sparkling pools of honey. Ethereal -not a word you would use when normally describing a man- but that’s how he looks. 

“Do you believe in soulmates?” 

He hadn’t ever thought he could believe in such a thing. Mostly because he’d always been sure that he would never experience it. 

“Do you?” His voice carries your question back to you. 

You can hear the city buzzing outside. Cars honking angrily in a futile attempt to speed up the pace of the traffic. People conversing, arguing, laughing. Loud thuds of music from the upstairs neighbour who cares little about the piling noise complaints. Somehow, the hum of Spencer’s words is the only sound that your ears register. 

“I asked first.” You playfully scoff, breaking eye contact and swivelling your head straight.

Spencer mirrors your motions, both of you now facing the ceiling as you remain side by side on his bed. 

“Yes.” His answer is barely above a whisper. 

It seems that your bodies want to make up for lost contact. You can feel his pinky reaching out to touch yours as you meet him halfway. 

“Me too.” 

A comfortable silence takes over the conversation. Everything feels still. The only movement is that of his fingers grazing against yours. He’s touched you in far more personal places tonight alone, and this is still one of your most intimate moments. There are no expectations or hidden agendas. This is simply the two of you existing in each other's presence; his preferred way to exist. It stretches until another inane question makes its way to the forefront of your mind.

“Do you ever wonder if you’ll get to meet them in this lifetime?” 

He pushes his frame up and rotates to face you as he sinks back down to the mattress. His head rests on the arm folded below it. You turn your head back to him so that you’re both holding eye contact again. 

“No.” He mouths the answer, his voice hesitant to raise at first. “I wonder whether mine is a romantic bond or platonic.” 

Your stomach flutters at the insinuation and you shift to mirror his position this time. In the midst of shuffling, the two of you seem to have closed a good chunk of the distance between you. 

“What do you want it to be?” You whisper, entranced by his gaze. 

Two of his knuckles lightly skim your cheek before those fingers brush your hair away from you. The act alone is enough to make your face heat up, no matter how many times he’s done it before. He begins to lazily stroke your hair, scratching your head in the process. It gives you the same tingling sensation you get from some rare ASMR videos. 

You don’t follow up on your question, unable to remember anything that was on your mind beforehand. His touch, combined with the minimal lighting and close proximity provides you with a sense of security you rarely feel otherwise. Your lids begin to grow heavy and you're forced to break eye contact when the weight of them becomes too much. 

“That’s really distracting y’know.” You mumble, eyes closed and voice hazy. 

“I know.” He mutters, almost without sound. 

He can’t help his smile as he watches you drift to sleep. He’s studied every feature on your face at least a hundred times and he’s yet to find a single flaw. The fact that you’re okay with being this vulnerable with him is a privilege that he’ll thank any and every deity he doesn’t even believe in for. Faint snoring indicates that you’re now dead to the world, but he can’t let your previous question go unanswered. 

“Whichever one allows me to be yours forever.”

Waking up to the warmth of your body pressed against his is by no means a recent development in your relationship with Spencer. Your back is to his chest and his arm is draped across your stomach, trapping you against him. Not that you mind. You’ve been lying still as you are for almost a while now, your thumb caressing the side of his wrist. With a yawn nuzzled into your neck, Spencer attempts to pull you closer to him, closing distance that was never there to begin with. 

He can feel the rise and drop of your chest; you can feel the beating of his heart behind yours. Neither of you is fully awake yet, opting to enjoy the silence and comfort of the other's presence. Your bodies are so closely tangled that your skin is almost melding with each other. 

Almost. 

The unexpected brushing of his hardness against your ass sends a jolt of electricity passing through you, waking you up in an instant. If it were anybody else, perhaps you would’ve felt ashamed of how that passing moment made your insides jump. You definitely wouldn’t have arched your barely clothed cunt towards the obstruction. A sharp exhale fans across the back of your neck, and you can practically feel the corners of his lips pull into a lazy smirk. 

“Well, good morning.” A groggy voice leans into your ear and the grip on your belly tightens.

“Morning.” You breathe out, barely audible.

You feel yourself clench around nothing when a hot, sticky kiss lands just behind your ear. Your arch intensifies when another one lands below your jaw and you unintentionally grind against him. It earns you a low grunt from him, which only prompts you to repeat the motion without thinking. His head drops in the nook of your shoulder, taken slightly off guard. He meets you halfway the third time, and it sets both your hips in a slow motion of rubbing against each other.

He can hear you hum each time his confined erection strokes your bundle of nerves and it sparks a determination in him to get more out of you. His hand trails from your abdomen to your pelvis, stopping just at the band of your underwear. He tugs the fabric, not making any further moves until you allow him to. You know that if you don’t take control now he’s going to prolong his foreplay, something you don’t have the patience for right now. He always makes it a point to make you finish at least once before he even considers himself. 

Out of the four times you came the night before, three of them were with his head between your thighs. You can’t even count the number of times you’ve teased him about how he probably gets off on pleasing you more than you do. You surprise him when you grab his hand and push it away from you, swinging yourself around to straddle him. Your hands land on either side of his head and you lower your forehead to rest against his. 

“Nuh-uh!” You taunt and it makes him snort. 

His palms trace your sides, arms wrapping around you, pulling your torso down to him.

“You’re not allowed to touch me this time.” You add in a hushed tone.

“No?” His brows raise in amusement.

“No.” 

You barely breathe out the word when his arms drop from around you. A slight chill takes over the area.

“No!” You repeat in a whiny tone, pushing yourself to sit up. 

You’re looking down on him from this angle, and God, does he look beautiful. His fluffy, sleep-tousled hair frames his face beautifully, the faint light of the rising sun only adding to the sight. 

“That’s not what I mean and you know it!” 

“I don’t know. You need to be clearer with what you want.” He chuckles. 

“I want you to stop being a little shit.” You retort, reaching for his hands.

You attempt to settle them on your thighs, but he removes them again. 

“I’m not allowed to touch you. Remember?” He emphasises the word allowed on purpose.

Both of you know that he’s the only one allowed to touch you and vice versa. Even if it wasn't something you both agreed upon, you’d never let anybody else touch you like him. If they even knew how to.

“You can touch me.” You roll your eyes, pulling his hands back to your skin. “But you can’t fuck me with anything other than your dick.”

Your curt tone doesn’t surprise him. He’s used to your boldness. Using your hips, he pulls you down onto his bulge completely. You don’t anticipate the sudden friction and it takes everything in you to not topple over on him. Spencer wasn’t prepared for the impact of his actions either, his head lolling back as he hisses sharply. 

“Yeah?” He questions through half gritted teeth. 

He’s painfully hard and the current view isn’t helping. He can clearly make out the shape of your curves under your flimsy t-shirt. How it drapes on the apex of your breasts, how the hem pools just above your thighs. His grip tightens against the plush of your skin. 

“Mhm.” You breathe out, eyes fluttering as you keep your core pressed to him. 

“Words, sweet girl. Use your words.” His breathing is laboured and it’s taking all of his willpower to not rut his dick back up against you.

The praise breaks you. You can no longer hold yourself up, falling into his chest. 

“Please fuck me.” You can only whisper in his ear, sending chills down his spine. 

He groans, grabbing you by the waist and flipping both of you around so you’re the one lying on the bed. It seems that he’s become just as impatient as you, if not more. He captures your lips in a deep, demanding kiss as he tugs his boxers just enough for his length to spring free. His tongue swipes your lips, seeking entrance and you grant it to him. He finds your kisses addicting. It takes an incredible amount of willpower to break them, but he does, sitting up on his knees. 

He parts your legs, placing one on either side of him and yanking you closer to him. You squeak in response, not processing the action until your cores are once again pressed together. You sigh when he pushes your panties to the side and runs a finger up your slit. A satisfied hum escapes him when he learns just how aroused you are. You sigh when runs his tip against you next, lining himself up with your cunt and pushing just the tip inside. Each of his hands intertwine with yours as he moves them above your head. He then leans in and plants a feather-light kiss on your cheek. 

“Like this?” He whispers in your ear.

He pushes in a little more and pulls out just enough for him to stay lined.

“More!” You whine, breathlessly, brows furrowing from anticipation.

“Mhm.” He doesn’t properly acknowledge your desperation and instead latches onto the skin under your jaw, sucking gently. 

You sigh at the sensation, arching more as his shaft pushes in again. This time, he doesn’t stop until he’s completely bottomed out. You moan and squeeze his hands, still intertwined with yours above your head. You never expect how full he makes you feel. Spencer squeezes your hands in return, still reeling in from how well your cunt accommodates him. He takes a minute, resting himself inside you to allow time for both of you to adjust to the feeling. 

He releases your skin with a small pop and moves a new spot on your neck. You think about how you’re going to have to use concealer to hide the marks he’s surely leaving behind and it makes you clench around him. The effect on him is instantaneous, a harsh groan vibrating against your throat and he sucks harder. The sound only makes your walls tighten more and it cues him to start thrusting. 

The initial pace is slow, but calculated; the kind that makes your joints loosen and jaw slack. He takes the opportunity to capture your lips in another long and consuming kiss. A loud moan ripples out from both of you and your hands deepen their hold on each other. Spencer’s not shy about letting you hear how good you make him feel and that drives you insane. 

Your hands instinctively try to reach for his hair, but he’s pinned you down tight. You whine into his mouth, pressing your fingers between his knuckles. Your whine fizzles out into a series of smaller whines when his hips speed up, hitting that sweet spot with every thrust. 

“Mm–Spence–mmph–”

You try to break the kiss to speak, but he simply drops a quick kiss on your jaw before reclaiming his place against your lips. He’s too lost in the taste of you to pay full attention. It takes you a moment to find the willingness to try again, but you do. You arch your hips too high for him to be able to follow from this position, forcing him to slip out from you and try to remove your hands from his grip. His focus is brought back to you and he lifts himself back on his knees, releasing you. 

“What’s wrong? Have I hurt you?” 

“M-mm” You shake your head and push yourself up on your hands.

You then shift into his lap, draping your arms around his shoulders. He gives you a curious look, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“I want to be able to hold you.” You admit with a slight shyness in your tone.

A light smile spreads across his face, brows arching in surprise. Being a genius and all, he’s always known he was needed in some way or another. You’re the first person who’s ever made him feel wanted, truly wanted. With no motive other than simply existing with him. It sparks a new desire, one you see light up behind his eyes. He leans into your lips, his hold on your waist tightening and he moves one arm to cradle the back of your head. 

You pull yourself flush against him, wrapping your arms around his neck as your tongues dance together once more. He lifts you up and places you back down against the mattress, mouth never leaving yours. You feel his palm raise one of your legs by the back of your knee and he’s entering you again. He rests that leg on his shoulder, while the other hangs by his waist and begins to build an unrelenting pace. 

You wail into his mouth at the intensity of his thrusts, eyes rolling behind closed eyes. It’s almost brutal, the way he’s slamming into you. Your hands desperately cling onto his bicep and shoulder, nails digging into the skin. His grunts and groans increase each time he gets deeper, if that’s even physically possible and it only makes you desperate for more. Your kiss breaks with a slight sting against Spencer’s lip. You didn’t realise how hard you were biting it in an attempt to stay grounded. 

There’s a shift in the atmosphere that you can’t explain. Even though Spencer was railing you so hard that even the bed had begun to cry out, there was an overwhelming sense of longing between you two. An ache to express how you belong to the other, hidden behind an uncouth sight. It’s compensation for those lack of words, a physical exchange expressing your biggest secret. He’s everywhere; your current position has you feeling Spencer in places you didn’t deem possible. 

His mouth works over whatever exposed skin it can access along your jaw and throat, leaving goosebumps and bruising stains in its wake. His cock is driving into you so fast that you swear it’s going to imprint on your walls. There’s a fire in you, one that only he can put out. Every inch of him can be felt within every inch of you. Now you’re truly melded with each other. 

“Fuck–oh my God!” You scream out, your nails digging harder into his flesh. 

He’s consuming all of your senses, at this moment you don’t know anything other than him. Eyes open or closed, all you can see is his sculpted face. You’re drowning in his scent. Melting at his touch. The taste of his kiss still lingers on your tongue. Your ears are flooded with the slaps of his skin meeting yours and your mixed moans and grunts. 

“Spen–fuck–gon–fu–cum!” 

He hasn’t even spared your ability to speak. With a short kiss, he brings his forehead back to rest on yours in a firm manner. 

“Me too, pretty girl.” He pants his sentence in broken pauses. “Me too.” 

He secures the leg on his shoulder from the back of your thigh and then brings the other leg on his other shoulder. It gives him room to drive himself deeper and makes you lose all control, every joint in your body threatening to fall limp. Your face contorts and you bite your lip, trying to control the flurry of screams. It results in high-pitched whines forcing their way out. 

“Spencer! I can’t–I can’t–I can’t” 

You can’t hold on any longer. 

“I know. I know.” There’s barely any voice accompanying his words. “We’ll do it together, okay? Where do you want me?”

“Inside–inside–ins-shitshitshit…” 

“Inside? Inside.” He struggles to keep himself together while talking you through it. “Ready?” 

You nod fervently and he steals one long, final kiss from you as he finally empties himself in your spent cunt. Your own orgasm crashes through in a long passing wave. You feel like you’re floating in the ocean with millions of stars as your only view for miles. He follows up with a few final thrusts, burying himself as far in you as possible. 

When you finally come to, Spencer’s pulled out and is lying right next to you. Peppering kisses over your face in intervals and muttering praises as strokes away hair glued to your face. 

“Did so well.”

“So good to me.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

For some reason, the water always feels nicer running down your body when you use Spencer’s shower. He’s a simple man; he doesn’t really have a lot of products to use besides the basic shampoo, conditioner, soap, and body wash. The exfoliators, masks and such were your initial additions that he keeps topping up after they run out. 

You haven’t said much since coming out of your euphoric state, only showing your gratitude and appreciation through small touches. Brushing a hand against his cheek, leaving a peck on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. He doesn’t mind your silence. It doesn’t deter him from showering you with praise while he looks after you. You’re so disorientated that you’re letting yourself be guided from one instruction to the next. 

“Lift your leg for me, sweet girl. Hand on my shoulder.” 

He helps you act out his command, grabbing your wrist and draping it on his shoulder while helping you lift your leg. His touch is tender, but he’s careful to cover every area with body wash. 

“Good girl.” 

You don’t physically react, but his approval makes you swell with pride. Sex is the least intimate part of your time with Spencer. What you really enjoy is how safe he makes you feel. You know that even if you show him your worst and ugliest moments, he won’t reject you. You trust him with parts of you that you barely trust yourself with. 

Anybody who’s touched your naked body before him doesn’t matter, because not one of them has gotten to touch it past the realm of physical pleasure. To you, the act of washing one’s body is so private, so sacred that it can’t be trusted with just anybody. How many are able to look past the lens of sexual release and view your skin and bones as something to cherish? Not even you can claim to view yourself in such a precious way. 

But Spencer does. 

Even as pats you dry and wraps you safely in a warm towel, he doesn’t demean your worth. They’d be thoughts he could easily keep hidden in the comfort of his own mind, but the thoughts simply don’t occur. You don’t realise how long the two of you are standing there, leaning into each other's arms against the counter. Nor do you realise how long it’s taken you to mentally return to him. The first thing you do notice is so trivial, it’s almost laughable. 

“You’re out of apple juice, by the way.” 

Even you’d laugh if you heard yourself bring up something so random.

“Do you want apple juice? We can go buy some more.” He replies in a quiet mumble.

In his presence, you can think such thoughts without the concern of being laughed at. 

“No, I’m not gonna make you go to the grocery store just for apple juice.” You shake your head, expression oozing sarcasm. 

“I need to buy a lot more than apple juice. I’m pretty sure I don’t even have enough to make eggs or coffee.” He snorts, running his fingers through your hair. 

“Right. I forgot, Mister F.B.I.” You snort back, playfully poking his arm. “How was your time in Alaska?” 

It’s really common for your brain to malfunction around Spencer. You don’t feel the need to think or stay on alert if he’s with you. 

“Grim. Bleak.” He keeps it short on purpose. 

He doesn’t want to taint what little time he has with you focused on the gory parts of his job. Or any parts of his job at all. He spends too much of his time there as it is, so he’d much prefer to keep that part of his life separate from you. Spencer didn’t understand what it truly meant to live until after you came into his life. He’d never admit it out loud, but being around you made him realise how much of his soul his job steals from him, piece by piece. You make it whole again.

“How bad was it?” Curiosity still gets the better of you at times.

“Awful. You weren’t there when I woke up every morning.” He steers the conversation again. 

“Uh-huh.” You smirk, looking up at him. “You say that to all your girl-friends the morning after?” 

He takes a small step back, creating space as he cups your face.

“Even if I had the social skills required, when do you honestly think I would have the time between being at work and being with you?” 

“When you’re at work. Duh.” You tap his temple, playfully, voice dripping with sarcasm.

He scoffs, unamused. It’s something Spencer can’t honestly even imagine. You’re his solace, his best friend…his person. 

“Get dressed.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “We’ll stop by that bakery you love and get some food in your system. Hopefully before your suggestions start becoming more and more insane.” 

You don’t appreciate the awestruck look on his face when you’re certain you’ve got chocolate lining the corners of your mouth. You attempt to glare at him, but it doesn’t last and you find yourself fighting back a smile.

“Cut it out!” You groan, stringing out the end of your sentence. 

The trolley comes to a halt as you stop to grab your phone, but he snatches it out of your hand before you can open the camera.

“Hey–”

“I’m revoking your phone privileges until your urge to keep checking your reflection fizzles out.” He states casually, slipping the phone into his pocket as he reaches for a loaf of bread on the top shelf. 

“Revoking my– what are you my fucking mother?” You reach for his pocket, but he grabs your wrist before you can retrieve your phone. 

You try to use your free arm, but he traps that one in his hands too. 

“I don’t wanna walk around with chocolate around my mouth!” You whisper-shout, mindful of other shoppers passing by.

“For the fifth time, you don’t have chocolate anywhere on your face. It wasn’t there after you finished your shake and it won’t be there no matter how many times you check.”

You ignore him, trying to free yourself from his grip.

“You don’t believe me?” The look on his face is more entertained than shocked.

“Spencer, my fluffy-headed, genius bookworm, I would put my life in your hands if you asked me to but after that time you let me walk around with my lipstick smudged–”

“That happened one time!” He gripes, less concerned about his volume. 

“I looked like I came straight off the clock from a circus!” 

“It wasn’t that bad!” 

“Six hours, you let me walk around like that!” 

If he were to be completely honest, he was completely enraptured by your long tangent about why you despise dolphins. Most of it wasn’t based on facts and the parts that were, weren’t really a feasible argument since morals are a uniquely human concept. However, that was the day he uncovered how brightly you light up when you talk about something you’re passionate about. He spent the rest of that time, subtly digging, trying to figure out the topics that made you glow so he could keep bringing them up. 

“There’s nothing there. Your face is– looks perfect.” He fumbles on his words.

“I can feel it!” You protest.

“That happens because–”

“Reid?” An unfamiliar voice calls out from behind you.

Spencer lets go of your wrists as you turn to face the owner of the voice. Two blondes, one behind the other. One of them is a lot more colourful and bold, with large statement jewelry and a pair of gorgeous platform heels that match her dress. The other is less vibrant, but with no less confidence and blue eyes that stand out like diamonds shining under lights. 

“Hey! What are you guys doing here?” 

You’re not a profiler, but you don’t miss the immediate shift in Spencer’s demeanour. He seems a lot more reserved and shy, as compared to the confidant and playful version of him that you know. 

“We’re picking up some things for my birthday bash this weekend.” The brown-eyed blonde chirps. “The one that I will definitely see you at, no excuses allowed!” 

“Right.” He gives an awkward, tight-lipped smile. 

Spencer loves his coworkers, he really does. They’re basically his family. However, he wants nothing more for them to go away right now. Not for any reason other than wanting to keep you away from them, because he knows them. For all their amazing qualities, there’s one that annoys him the most and that’s how nosey they can be. Especially when it comes to him. 

“Hi. I’m JJ.” The blue-eyed blonde takes the initiative to introduce herself, reaching out her hand for a friendly shake.

He knows it’s from a place of love. He’s the youngest member of the team, they all want to protect him, but he detests how they coddle him. He can already sense the incoming invitation from Garcia to her birthday. He knows that it won’t take long for you to befriend everyone on his team, because, well, they’re all amazing people. Integrating you with that part of his life is something he’s just not ready for. Not like this.

“I’m Penelope and oh my goodness, you are just gorgeous!” 

He enjoys how when he’s with you, he can exist in a separate bubble. Where all he is, is not the resident genius of the BAU. More than that, he knows of the dangers that come with integrating the two separate lives. He’s seen the losses that occur, whether they be by generic circumstances or unplanned deaths. And there’s nothing he can do to stop his worlds colliding, a fact he has to grasp as soon as he zones back in to find three sets of eyes staring at him, expectantly.  

“Right.” He clears his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “These are my– um– this is Penelope Garcia and Jennifer Jareau, or JJ. We work together.” 

The introduction is hesitant and rushed at best, but you chalk it up to him being taken off guard. You want to gauge his mood, try and figure out where his head’s at, but that’s going to have to wait. 

“Oh my God! I knew it!” Garcia gasps dramatically, taking your hand in hers. “You’re the reason he’s always in a rush to leave now! It is so nice to meet you!”

Garcia’s not wrong. You are the reason he’s always in a rush to get away. You’re his escape from the harsh realities he faces every day. You’re unsure of how to respond. In fact, you’re not even certain as to what’s going on. Nobody else seems to match Penelope's enthusiasm. Spencer looks mortified, while JJ looks like she wants to drag Penelope away. Still, everybody’s too frozen to stop her. 

“Did you know that you have him checking his phone more than a lovestruck teenage girl? Him! One of the biggest technophobes I’ve ever met!”

This is also a fact. Spencer’s not an idiot. He’s not oblivious to the open-mouthed stares he gets every time he’s caught smiling like a dopey idiot after looking at the screen. He’s just never cared. It’s almost impossible to ignore any notification from you. He doesn’t feel great about that coming to bite him in the ass right about now. 

Given different circumstances that were more in his control, Spencer would be elated to introduce the most important people in his life to each other. This whole interaction is actually shorter than he feels it is, but for Spencer, time moves too slowly. He can sense how the safety of your company as he knows it, the most valuable aspect of his life, is under threat of being ripped away from him with every second that passes. Without you, Spencer would once again find himself lost. 

“Spencer, you have to bring her to my bash this weekend! Everybody would love to meet your girlfriend!” Garcia wiggles her eyebrows, eyes smirking beneath her glasses.

Because all he is, is yours. 

“Oh! Uhm–” You begin.

“No Garcia, she’s–this is…my friend..” He adds at the same time, unable to hide his stutter.

At least, that’s all he wants to be.

“Right…we’re just…friends.” You confirm with a half-hearted smile at the reminder of your reality. 

It was better this way. The two of you agreed on this at the start of your arrangement. 

Spoilers: Mostly just fluff, a sprinkle of angst, smut, lots of mutual pining, friends with benefits.

AN - I felt a surge of evil take over my bones when I wrote this and any events that unfolded were out of my control. This is not my finest work, but once I thought of it I had to share it. Also I know I said not to bother me about fics bc uni and I still mean that, I just don’t know what happened. It’s like I got a bit of inspo and couldn’t help myself. Huge thanks to @mrs-dr-reid for beta reading! FWB Writing Challenge by @imagining-in-the-margins Prompt - "I wanna be yours" by Arctic Monkeys

No bc writing that opening scene on the bed might be my favourite and u should tell me if u agree bc I wanna write more like that, but if u hate it then I won't.

Thanks for reading.

[ghosts-and-glory]

Is Shamura training martial arts after being taken into Lamb's cult? If they enjoyed complexity and bloodshed of war than it'd be probably dissapointing for them if they had to... drop it all

Full under the cut because this turned out really long

Upon joining the cult Shamura was a shell of their former self. They join the cult dissenting, the long term effects of the crown still clawing at the edges of their mind, but after a few days they’re mortal, just themself. Without the crown to hold them together they suffer like their injury was yesterday.

The Lamb has the doctor, Puar, perform their usual tests on them. Shamura is hardly there. They don’t know their own name, can hardly speak, can’t stand or track movement.

There was no wisdom in their slurred words. No power in the way their hands shook.

The outlook is bad.

The Lamb doesn’t really want to help them, after everything, why should they. Shamura who had The Lamb’s entire race and family killed, who killed them aswell and countless of their followers. It would cost them so much, to try and help someone who spent so long just trying to destroy them and everything they had. The time, energy, resources it would cost and they didn’t even know if they could get better.

Deciding it wasn’t worth it was one thing, but getting the other ex bishops to understand was a whole other, even the doctor disagreed with them.

Dr Puar took on being their primary caregiver. They’d been a doctor for the past hundred years and seen concussions and dementia but nothing nearly as severe as this. They wanted to help Shamura but didn’t know how.

It wasn’t until Narinder joined the cult that The Lamb saw any reason to help Shamura. But there was something wrong with him and Shamura knew something, they just had to get to it.

Kallamar was the ex bishop Puar wanted the help from the most. He was scared of the lamb and red crown but he loved Shamura more.

The Lamb took Puar and Kallamar to the ruins of the temples in Anchordeep and Silk Cradle. They spent days digging through the decimated remains of the libraries for something, anything on this type of injury.

It seemed that they where looking down possible years of intense recovery. Needed herbs and medicines that may no longer exist, techniques Puar had never heard of. But they would try.

Puar took careful and detailed notes. Timed Shamura’s responses, wrote down everything they said, tracked eating, drinking, sleeping and every symptom they displayed. Improvements where slow and sometimes nonexistent at first. They took full minutes to respond and only in single words, barley moved, couldn’t feed themselves and suffered constant migraines.

The one thing that seemed to help them the most was their siblings. They didn’t remember them most days but every time one of they came to check in it raised their spirits. One of their faces was the only thing they could focus on sometimes.

Kallamar insisted he wasn’t a doctor but still worked around the infirmary, helping Shamura was the only thing he’d do without complaining. Heket spent hours sitting in silence with them, brought them food and flowers and changed their bandages. Leshy was the only thing that could get them to smile and they where the only person he would ever lower his voice for, he told them stories even though they hardly listened.

Improvements brought new challenges. They got better at speaking full sentences and following conversations but it revealed how fractured their memory was. Forgetting names, places and important events, how often they forgot where they where, they asked the same questions over and over again.

They complained of seeing and hearing things, phantom pains with seemingly no rhyme or reason. The sun hurt their eyes, rain gave them headaches, always sleeping but always tired. They would suddenly backslide constantly. One day could walk with minimal help and the next, couldn’t even hold a pen in their hand. Have a full conversation one day and hardly spit out their name tomorrow.

Until the day Puar looked Shamura in the eye and for once they saw him. Didn’t look past them with their blank stare but looked at them. They would ask to sit outside at night in the fresh air. They seemed to know now who they are, what they where, what they lost. A tinge of grief in their words.

Improvements brought frustration. On days they remembered who they where they were overcome with a mix of anger, guilt and despair. They where a god. They had bore down on armies, killed men with a twitch of a finger, brought other gods to their knees, and now they could hardly bring a cup to their mouth.

Emotionally, their siblings said they’d never seen them like this before. Before Shamura could be frustrated but their temper was cold and quiet. Now they wore a short fuse and suffered constant mood swings. It angered them that they couldn’t read, that their hands were numb, that they couldn’t walk without a cane, couldn’t go out in the sun, couldn’t string a full sentence together, couldn’t recognize their siblings faces, couldn’t feed themselves, couldn’t sleep without drugs, everything they lacked and lost wore them down.

Regardless, they where unusually steadfast. They would always pick back up. If they got frustrated they would try again in a few days. They tried anything Puar asked of them, anything for the smallest iota of improvement.

The outlook was better.

—————

This got out of control and took me like three days between the art and write up. I got really excited when I saw this ask cause the answer is so devastating. If I was taking Narinder’s trauma seriously I’m not gonna just ignore Shamura’s traumatic brain injury.

As a side note, I’m very unsure how to write the medical stuff, my guess is that cotl is based around 1300’s-1700’s but that’s a wide net to cast. My excuse for the stronger understanding of medicine and trauma is magic.

[chxrryhansen]

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐌𝐁 𝐀𝐔

Pairing; Dark!Club Owner Ari x Shy!Reader

Warnings; dark themes, unbalanced power dynamic, daddy kink, no smut in this part but as usual Minors Please DNI!!

Summary; You knew it was a bad idea showing up to the most notorious club in the city, but it’s your best friend’s birthday and you can’t say no, right? So, what happens when the owner himself, Ari Levinson, spots you at the bar, claiming you as his own from the moment he laid eyes on you.

It’s finally here! The first instalment of my very first series, apologies for no smut but i promise the next part will be very smutty to make up for it 👀 bare in mind this is just the introduction!!! please don’t be afraid to ask questions and remember to reblog and comment💗 i love to hear your guys feedback!

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

You climb out of the uber, reaching to pull the hem of your dress down as you and your friends stumble towards the club.

You had finally agreed to try out the biggest club in the city, "Cherry Bomb.” Since it was your best friend Sarah's birthday your group decided it was only fair she could choose which clubs you were going to tour for the night. You had been putting it off ever since the opening night a few months ago, the reputation not being something you had particularly wished to be involved with.

All you knew was bad things happened there, and from what you had heard the owners, Ari Levinson and Lloyd Hansen, two brothers in arms, were so cruel and unforgiving that even the richest men in the city dared not to step foot in the place, and those who did shortly regretted it. Their names were known around the streets, the most notorious club owners to exist, 70% of clubs in the city all belonging to them, more money under their belt than the government itself.

An incident a few weeks back had became the talk of the town, according to Sarah a well known patron had gotten a little handsy with one of the clubs dancers and when he was given a warning to back off, he refused. Claiming he spent enough money in the club grounds to do as he pleased, including groping innocent dancers without permission.

Long story short the bouncers ended up forcibly removing the man, cussing and struggling on his way out of course, you know, the usual druken male rage and feeling of entitlement. Seemed like a pretty convenient coincidense that the exact same night the man was found beaten to a bloody pulp in a back alley, his face practically unrecognisible.

It wasn't long before the 'rumour' was quickly snuffed out. They were good at that, making things.. people, dissapear. Almost as if it never happened... as if they never exhisted.

Now that you were standing infront of it, you couldn't deny, it was beautiful. Even from the outside, the bright neon sign glowing in the moonlight, multiple bouncers blocking the large glass stained doors, making sure to check each persons id before unhooking the stanchion, allowing said persons entry. The queue seeming endless.

Lucky for you, your friends had been gifted VIP tickets, you didn't even bother to ask who they got those from, or how. You didn't want to know. You flashed your id at the pretty bouncer, his buzzed hair, large muscles and stern face making it quite obvious as to why he had the job he did.

You bounced your foot as he scanned over your card before opening the barrier and letting you inside. Sarah was quick to grip each of your hands, practically dragging you inside once you began to hesitate, not wanting you to change your mind so soon.

"Come on, babe, let's get those sweet legs moving!" Sarah hollers from ahead, her hand intertwined with your own as the rest of the girls hurried towards a booth.

"I-I don't know if this is a good idea, Sare.." you mumbled, fiddling with your fingers as she tugged you towards your friends and giving you a slight nudge into the cushioned seats, the red velvet material instantly soothing your hot thighs as you sat.

She reached down, holding your cheeks in both hands and facing you towards herself, sliding into the booth next to you "Listen, i know you're worried and if it makes you feel better i promise we can leave and go somewhere else, but just give it a try, please...for me?" she pleaded, giving you her famous puppy dog eyes.

"You know i can't resist that face." you whined as she cheered.

As you slowly got more drunk you began to forget why you didn't want to visit. The atmosphere was astronomical, the whole club being fit for royalty. The girls hooted and hollered as you trotted off towards the bar on your way to buy in a round of drinks. You waited at the bar with your card in hand but as you went to hand it over to the bartender he paused you.

“It’s on the house.” he says while he wipes down the bar with a rag, a smile on his face. He was handsome in all fairness, standing at around 6'2, his bright blonde locks and pretty blue eyes causing you to pause for a moment before giving him a puzzled look, tilting your head sideways.

“Is it a nightly special or something? I didn’t see anything about free drinks on the poster outside…” you begin yet he’s already scuttling off to take another couples order, shooting you a sly smile over his shoulder. Leaving you even more confused than before.

You slowly reach for the tray of shots when you feel a large hand on your shoulder, causing you to spin around in shock, ready to fight off any unwanted men. You pause yet again, having to look up to catch the mans face.

His 6’5 form towers over your much smaller figure, dressed in a dark purple suit and tie, his pearly blues shining in the colourful strobe lights, looking down at you with a slight smirk. His dark beard covered most of his face and his long curtains framed his godly sculpted face. Even with his suit on his arms bulged through the material, his thick biceps almost bigger than your head.

You shortly snapped out of your daze as his leather gloved hand squeezed your arm. “C-Can i help you, sir?” you stammered, worried incase you had been caught gauking.

He laughs “Not even a thankyou, Sweetheart? I thought you’d have better manners than that.” he teases, his rough voice sending shivers down your spine. You stutter as you try to find your words, seeming as they were lodged in the back of your throat.

“I’m kidding, name’s Ari…you gonna’ give me the curtesy of knowing yours or you just gonna’ keep starin’ at me with those pretty eyes?”

“A-Ari as in… Levinson?” you question, swallowing harshly as the nerves quickly built in your stomach.

He shakes his head gently with a smirk "So you know me, huh?"

Your eyes widen at the realisation of who the mystery man is, your arms instantly beginning to shake, your card still in hand. You were never good at dealing with situations such as this one, always being labled as the 'shy girl' of your group. Sarah being the complete opposite. Usually men in this situation would back off, sensing your uncomfortable trembles and leaving you alone, but not Ari. If anything the smirk on his face grew wider at the sense of your fear.

"Steve, why don't you head over to booth two, give the girls their shots." Ari calls out towards the handsome bartender from earlier.

The man, Steve, is at your side in an instant "No prob man, have fun you two." he winks, collecting the glasses and sauntering off with a wink.

Ari shakes his head with a laugh, “Why don’t you come with me.” he leans down to whisper in your ear. The vibration of his vocals in your ears sending shivers down your spine before he struts forwards, holding out his thick palm for you to grab on to, and almost as if your in a trance, you begin to trail behind him without hesitation. Sliding your smaller palm into his own as he led you through the club.

Your nerves never allowed you to talk much, or make your own decisions, that being the reason you followed the stranger without any question asked, which is exactly why Sare was usually always there to do it for you. But, your drunken confidence had allowed you to go to the bar alone, which you were beginning to really regret. Your confidence being blown out of the park as the attractive beast watched you from infront with a careful eye.

Shortly you arried at the unknown destination, trailing nervously behind Ari as he unlocked a large door, which was infact bolted shut. He pushed open the door, looking down at you, edging you to enter, and so you did. Your eyes lit up as they searched the vast room, expensive furnature lining the room, bottles of champagne worth more than your house filling the cupboards above his desk.

Ari pushed the door closed, moving to sit on a cushioned purple chair, his thick thighs spread wide as he removed his gloves, pouring himself, and you, a glass of his finest drink. His cold eyes beckoned you forwards, your legs shaking as you stepped towards him, standing inbetween his spread legs.

He patted his thigh with one hand "Sit." he called out, his voice sweet yet stern.

You looked at him shocked, your lips parting slightly, were you really going to sit on his lap? A man you just met? Who you didn't even know? "I-I don't think i should Mr Levinson." you whispered.

His eyes grew shades darker at your refusal, not even giving you time to debate your decisions he reached out, gripping your waist in his thick palm and pulling you down, sitting you sideways on his lap as you gasp in shock. His other hand pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear as you squirmed under the pressure.

"Pretty girl, next time i ask you to do something, you do it. No questions asked. You understand?" he asked in a low growl.

You swallowed your nerves and nodded gently under his deep gaze, your body trembling.

"Ah ah, words baby."

"Yes, M-Mr Levinson, I-I understand."

Ari groaned underneath his breath, not understanding how lucky he had gotten that a pretty little thing like you would just waltse right in at the perfect moment, almost as if you were made for him. Like a lamb in a lions den. "As much as i love the way you say my name, call me Ari, sweet girl."

Again, you followed his command. "Yes, Ari."

"Good girl." he rumbled, pulling your bottom lip gently inbetween his index and thumb, loving the way you felt on his lap. Your innocence and submissive nature automatically triggering his dominance, his cock growing hard in his slacks as your plump ass squirmed on his knee.

You keened at his praise, a fluttery feeling appearing in your lower half. Of course Ari noticed this, the way your pussy pulsated on his thigh told him all he needed to know.

"You ever been with a man before, sweetheart?" Ari asks while he strokes your hair, not even having to shout due to the soundproof room blocking out the clubs music.

"Um, n-no i haven't, my Grandma wouldn't really approve of that sort of stuff, she said i should wait till m-marriage." you whisper shyly.

Ari blows out a puff of air at your innocence, desperately trying to control himself. All he wants is to ruin you, in every way you can imagine, and more. He smirks, leaning into your shoulder, pressing his nose against your sensitive neck and taking a deep inhale. Groaning softly, your sweet scent driving his instincts wild.

"Your Grandma seems like a very smart lady, little girl. You live with just her, huh?"

"Yeah, i never really knew my m-mom and dad, and my grandpa died shorly after i was born s-so it's pretty much always just been me and her. She does her best to take care of me, taught me everything i know." you speak with a bright smile, Ari notices how your stutter stopped when talking about her, he thought it was sweet, how much you must care about her.

However, the dark side of his mind was quick to take a seat, the realisation that you never had a father figure making his cock impossibly harder. Knowing he could be that for you, and knowing you needed a strong man like him in your life to make all those decisions for you.

"I think i changed my mind, baby. Why don't you call me daddy from now on, mkay?" he spoke softly, yet the edge in his tone still clear.

"D-Daddy?" you muttered, confused as to why he would want you to call him that.

He moaned hearing your sweet voice call him by his new found title. Taking a deep breath, he sighed, choosing not to elaborate on his previous statement. "Good girl. I'm gonna' take care of you from now on, yeah? Anything you need, you come to me. Pass me your phone, sweet girl."

"Oh, i-i don't have a phone.. daddy."

Ari's eyebrows knit together softly "You don't have a phone? Why not?"

You shake your head, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment. "We uhm, w-we can't really afford that sort of stuff."

"Well that just won't do." he speaks in a teasing tone, tickling your waist making you giggle softly.

Suddenly a loud bang causes you to shoot upright, you quickly dash off Ari's lap, moving to stand away from him, his office door slamming shut as a tall moustached man enters. Your eyes widen in fright, knowing how violent the man standing infront of you truly was. You knew who he was too, Sare had told you plenty of stories about the cruel Lloyd Hansen. You often wondered if he even had a soul.

"Man it's fuckin' packed down there, what the fuck are you doing up here." the man groans, not even noticing you until he turns. He lifts his sunglasses, staring you down, his eyes scanning over your figure, pausing and licking his lips at the soft flesh beneath the cut of your dress, your pretty pink dress having ridden up your thighs.

"Lloyd." Ari bellows, sighing in annoyance at his disruption.

A smirk similar to Ari's appears on the man, Lloyd's, face. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?" he speaks in a sultry voice. He begins his descent in your direction and the second gets a little too close, Ari shoots up out of his seat, moving to stand infront of you. A low rumble vibrating through his chest.

Ari stood slightly taller than Lloyd, with broader shoulders and thicker legs, the muscles in his back visible as he stood infront of you, almost as if he was protecting you, a hand wrapped around your hips rubbing his thumb in circular motions over your dress….and of course the most important detail, his luscious full beard compared to Lloyds 90s porn stache. They stared each other down, asserting some sort of dominance over one another… Ari seemingly winning as Lloyd begins to back up.

He lets out a chuckle, lifting his hands in a surrender position, taking a few steps back. "I mean no harm, just wanna' ask the pretty girl for her name, s'all."

You begin to quiver yet again, Lloyd's presence scaring you back into your shell. His dangerous aura sending goosebumps across your trembling figure. "I-I think i sh-should go." you whisper, tugging at the hem of your dress in a desperate attempt to calm your nerves.

"Don't move, sweets. Lloyd. Get the fuck out of here man." Ari bellows.

“I think you’ll find this club is mine just as much as it is yours, big bro. C’mon. Introduce me to the beauty.” he chucked yet again, probably at Ari’s fury. Steam was practically pouring out of his ears at this point. He didn’t even want Lloyd looking at you, nevermind talking to you.

“I mean it Lloyd get the fuck outta’ here man-“

Before he can stop you, you make a quick dash for the door and at the sound of Ari's resistance your legs carry you quicker than you could've ever imagined. Not looking back once as you pull the door open, swiftly shutting the door behind you.

You take a deep, your chest heaving at the stress of the situation, wiping your sweaty hands on your dress and making your descent down the club stairs, shaking your head in confusion and fear, eager to find your friends, craving their comfort and hearing a hushed "You fuckin' asshole." in the distance.

[kyeomofhearts]

Need Somebody | J.WW

+ summary: a heart-to-heart conversation with your best friend leads to an unexpected confession…

+ pair: wonwoo x gn!reader

+ word count: 2.7k

+ content: hurt/comfort, it was never platonic lol, mutual pining, angst, fluff. (I really tried keeping the reader gender-neutral but I’m not 100% sure it is so please lmk if I need to make any changes!)

[borders created by @enchanthings <3]

“So when do you plan on settling down?” Your mother had asked you over dinner. God, you hated the holidays.

Never in your life have you ever dated anyone.

Not that you needed to.

It's not like you haven't had anyone take interest in you either, there would be some people here and there who would pursue you for a bit. You were just simply not interested in them.

Of course, there would be times when you would feel the loneliness creep in even more than usual. But you usually reasoned to yourself that the right person would come with time.

Except tonight happened to be one of those nights.

You see, your family had just left your place a few hours ago. With the holidays coming and going, your family had begun to visit you more often.

Now you obviously loved your family, but man, did they get on your nerves.

Being the youngest amongst your siblings was becoming more difficult as the years passed by. Seeing them get married one by one definitely didn’t help with your case either.

Your mom started to fear for your so-called ‘future’. Which irritated you since you had everything you needed for the most part, that being a well-paying job and a nice place.

Which is exactly what happened today. Your parents (alongside your siblings) started asking you non-stop questions over your love life.

“Mom please don’t,” you tried to keep your tone respectful but it was getting difficult when you weren’t seeing an end to these invasive questions.

“What? All of your other siblings have gotten married… don’t you think that’s it’s time you do too?” Her tone was bordering a slight feeling of concern and stress.

You stayed quiet for a beat, trying to give her a response that would help get her off your back until the next time she saw you.

“We’ve talked about this, I’m not in a rush and surely it will-“ before you could finish your sentence your mom was already finishing it for you.

“-happen with time I know. But don’t you think you are being too picky at this point? Prince Charming doesn’t exist, so stop waiting for him.”

There it was.

Just because you didn’t date around didn’t mean that you were picky.

You just didn’t like wasting your time with the wrong people, that's all it was.

But before you could counter, one of your siblings quickly changed the subject before things eventually escalated into something worse.

And just like that, the rest of your evening had been soured by that single conversation with your mother.

Even hours after your family had left, you still felt bothered by your mother’s disapproving comments.

…

Needless to say, you called the only person who would be awake at one in the morning.

Wonwoo.

You and Wonwoo have been close friends for a few years, having first met in your senior year of college.

At first he was just an acquaintance, someone you thought you would see once in a while. But he somehow happened to be everywhere you were.

You don’t really remember how the two of you actually became friends, it could have been through a mutual friend or class that you shared. But ever since then, the two of you have been inseparable.

You might have had the tiniest crush on him too but you don’t really like thinking about that. You like to think you grew past that stage.

“yn? Is everything okay?” His voice was slightly groggy… shit you might have woken him up.

“Fuck I’m sorry, were you asleep? I’ll leave you-“

What was it with people cutting you off mid-sentence?

“-No I wasn’t. I actually just woke up from my nap, what’s up?”

Wonwoo and his naps. At this point they should not be called naps considering how long he sleeps for.

“Oh you know… just had the best talk with my family.”

You could hear him audibly smile. Wonwoo knew that you didn’t always have the best times with your family, having heard your countless rants throughout the years.

“What did they say this time?” He asked with faux enthusiasm.

“More like what did my mom say. She just kept asking me when I plan on getting married and that I should stop being picky.” As much as you tried to act nonchalant about it, you were really upset by the way things had turned out.

Wonwoo quickly took notice in your slightly wavering voice. It wasn’t normal for you to get emotional over small fights like this. It must have been serious enough for you to remain bothered even after your family had left.

“Hey, don’t take it to heart. I know your mom can say some out of pocket things but try to not let it get to you.” Wonwoo was not the best at comforting people, even he knew that, but he always tried his best to comfort you.

“I know but it’s so…. irritating? Like she told me to stop waiting for Prince Charming as if I’m a little kid.” You wanted to say more but once you started ranting you knew Wonwoo would not be able to keep up.

“I’ve told her so many times that I don’t want to waste my time with the wrong person. I don’t get how she doesn’t understand that!”

Relax. Just take a deep breath and wait for his response.

“Do you want me to come over?”

Even though Wonwoo had been over to your place a numerous amount of times, you still couldn’t help but feel your heartbeat race at the thought of him coming over.

“No, it’s okay I promise. I just wanted to talk to you about it.”

One thing you had learned about Wonwoo was that he was a bit assertive when he was concerned about you.

“Hmmm… doesn’t matter I’m coming over.”

It was always shocking to see him get this bold, seeing how reserved he was with everyone else.

“What was the point in asking then?” You tried sounding annoyed but you knew that your smile was very audible.

“Just wanted to make you feel like you had a choice.” You could hear his cockiness through the phone and somehow, it made your heart do somersaults.

“Don’t you think it’s a little late to be coming over?” Like always, you tried playing it cool, never wanting to show Wonwoo how his words got to you. Maybe he did notice, but if he did, he never said anything about it.

“Never… I’ll see you in ten.”

And just like that he ended the call.

Sometimes you wondered what it would be like when he eventually got a girlfriend. Wonwoo is a good-looking guy, you’re surprised he hasn’t been snatched up yet. Not that you’re worried or anything, but… you know, things will surely change once he finds the one.

Maybe it was you being selfish, but you try to take advantage of the little time you have left before either one of you finds a partner. You know it’s bound to happen at some point, so might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

It actually took Wonwoo a little over thirty minutes to get to your place, which was weird considering you live pretty close to each other.

What was also weird was that he knocked. He never knocked anymore considering that he had a key to your place.

“Hey, what took you so-“ opening the door you were greeted with a slightly disheveled Wonwoo.

Oh.

Wonwoo’s hands were filled with plastic bags. You could see snacks poking out of through some of the bags and… regular groceries? What grocery store is open at this hour?

“Couldn’t come over empty handed.” He stated simply.

Before he stepped another foot you decided to help him with the load. You could imagine how tiring it must have been for him to carry the bags all the way to the third floor of your apartment building.

Seeing him like this felt oddly comforting. It looked like he was just returning home from a long day at work.

“You really didn’t have to Won…” As much as you liked to play it cool, you couldn’t help but swoon over his actions. It was hard to when he was just so caring.

“But I wanted to… everything I do is by my own will you know,” he softly smiled at you while ruffling your hair.

Before you were able to respond, he quickly offered you your favorite bag of chips.

“Sit down, I’ll put everything away.”

And just like that, he quickly went to work. It helped that he knew where everything went so it didn’t take him long before he joined you on the sofa.

“So… rough night?” He asked gently, despite being so bold through the phone. Seeing your defeated face always put a sour taste in his mouth, which made him more careful with his words.

“You could say that.” You tried to laugh it off, but he knew that you were bothered.

“I know dealing with your family is hard but just know that I’m always here for you.” He lightly grabbed your hands over to his, rubbing soft circles over your palms.

This always seemed to do the trick, seeing your tense shoulders drop into a more relaxed position.

“And I’m grateful for that Won… but sometimes it really gets to me you know?” You tried avoiding looking into his eyes because you knew that one look would break the dam building up in your eyes.

“Maybe she is right… maybe I am being too unreasonable. Like as much as I like to think that the right guy will come through one day… what if he doesn’t?”

This seemed to annoy Wonwoo. He never wanted to see you settle for less, because he knew that you deserved better.

With a sharp inhale, he grabbed your chin to make you look directly into his eyes.

“Never say that again. You should never settle for less. You know better than that.” He was obviously annoyed but not at you. He hated when others tried to make you take less than what you truly deserve.

His fingers on your chin stayed, making your skin slightly tingle from his touch.

As great as he was at comforting you, the thoughts of him someday not being able to be there for you started to cloud your mind. It was bound to happen, either you or Wonwoo would find someone and eventually stop hanging out. Wonwoo seemed to notice the shift in your sadness, eyes becoming glossy.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” he muttered softly.

“It’s nothing,” you weren’t sure if he actually heard your response since it was barely audible to you.

Wonwoo gave you that look. The one he always used when he wasn’t convinced by your responses. You didn't want to tell him about your fear because it would then expose your feelings for him. And that was one thing you could never risk, your friendship. No matter how strong your feelings would get, you couldn't let him become aware of them.

“Talk to me,” his eyes were pleading. He just wanted you to completely open up to him the way he did with you.

There was no way out of this. Obviously, you weren’t going to tell him the actual reason behind your sadness. You had to give him something to get him off your trail.

“Well, it’s just that sometimes it does feel lonely. And having my mom point out the obvious makes me feel like a lost cause. I’m also not getting any younger, so now I feel like I have to rush into something or else my ‘good’ years would have gone to waste…” While this wasn’t the actual thing that was bothering you tonight, it was at least something believable.

Wonwoo seemed to have bought it, since he stopped giving you those judging eyes. He stayed quiet, most likely trying to find the right thing to say.

He cleared his throat after a beat or so.

“Don’t lie to me. I know there’s something else bothering you, if you don’t want to tell me then just say that.”

How? How did he know you that you were lying?

Maybe this was your chance. Your chance to tell him how you felt about it because if you truly thought about it, there was no future with him either way. Either he rejects you or he finds someone, they both lead to you not being in his life in the future.

You took in deep breath, gathering all of your courage before speaking.

“If I tell you, please don’t judge me-“

He immediately cut you off, “Why would I judge you?”

“Please just let me finish, it’s already hard enough having to tell you.” Again, you avoided his eyes, fearful of seeing any sort of judgment in them.

“Look, I know we’ve been friends for a while now… and I’ve been so happy with that, I really have. It’s just that… one day we won’t have each other.”

As much as you tried not looking at him, your eyes landed on his. They looked solemn. You could already tell that he knew where the conversation was going.

“Eventually, we’ll have our own partners-” your voice was beginning to shake, becoming harder to hide your sadness.

“yn stop.” But before Wonwoo could get another word in, he softly pressed his lips against yours. His hands had snaked their way up to your neck, gently cradling your face. His touch was gentle, as if you were the most fragile thing in the world.

You were stunned, to say the least. Even as he pulled away, you couldn’t find any words to say. It was as if he had taken your breath away.

“I tried taking it slow, I really did, but I can’t continue seeing you like this. I like you yn, I really do. I was too scared of ruining our friendship so I didn't say anything, but I hate to see you think that no one wants you… because I do.”

You didn’t even notice you had started crying, only feeling Wonwoo's thumbs wipe your tears away.

He continued, “I’m not even sure if you feel the same way about me, but I really need you to know that you are not unloveable.”

It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Especially now that you knew that Wonwoo liked you back, you felt elated.

Wonwoo on the other hand… felt terrified. While he didn’t regret confessing his feelings towards you, he was certainly scared. He didn’t even know if you reciprocated those same feelings. It also didn’t help that you were being quiet. The silence that was once comfortable to him was beginning to feel suffocating. But before his thoughts could escalate any further, your voice was able to snap him out of his daze.

“Do you really mean it?” You knew it was stupid to ask, considering Wonwoo was not the type to stay stuff like this without meaning it. But the little voice in your head didn’t buy it one bit, so you needed the reassurance to silence those thoughts.

Without hesitation, Wonwoo answered, “Of course.”

“Okay, well… I do too. Like you, that is…” Your face was beginning to burn up. This was so embarrassing. God, you felt like a teenager again, except this time you actually did get your happy ending.

But like the two idiots you were… you didn’t move a single inch. Were you supposed to hug? High-five? Kiss again? This has never happened to you before, either you rejected the guy or pretended that it never happened. What were you supposed to do?

“So….” Wonwoo’s voice was quiet and awkward.

To be fair, neither of you were expecting to confess to each other tonight. Obviously, now that you both know that you have mutual feelings for each other… the next step would be dating right? Or is that too soon? You have been friends for a while now so it wouldn't be that unreasonable... right?

Wonwoo grabbed a hold of your hand, weaving his fingers with yours. You could see the tips of his ears turn a bright pink before he cleared his throat.

“Do you… want to be my-” Wonwoo was visibly cringing as he said it out loud. It was a no brainer, but he still wanted to ask you, to make it official.

“-Yes. I would be an idiot to say no.”

[ᝰ.ᐟ] hey guys! i know i haven’t been active lately and i’m really sorry about that. school has been so overwhelming for me so i struggled finding the time to write, which brings us to this! i wrote this i think… last year? not too sure but i tried editing it a little but there might be some errors here and there so please excuse that 🥹 also i am still working on part three for Back for More so stay tuned for that!

[pigfacedbitch]

Phobia

idea : your phobia relates to your boyfriend's gifted godly abilities.

word count : 0.8k

type : headcanons

pairing/s involved : Jason Grace / Percy Jackson / Leo Valdez / Frank Zhang / Nico Di Angelo x Reader

warning/s : phobia speaks for itself. personally, it's thalassophobia for me. 😓

here is my masterlist!

Jason Grace | Acrophobia (Fear of Heights)

Due to having the same fear as his sister, Jason is completely aware of the dos and dont's when you're an acrophobic.

If you two are forced in situations where you need to be in high places, he always attempts to distract you with anything he can think of.

He prefers embarrassing stories over jokes. His delivery is too deadass and his 'i'm-trying-hard-here-it's-not-funny' look makes you laugh before the punchline.

Knowing that it can be associated with the fear of falling, Jason will reassure you every time that he's going to catch you.

If you did fall, during some battle for example, he will asks you to close your eyes and hold you tighter before slowly bringing you down.

He really lives up to that Superman nickname so much, the others started calling you Lois Lane.

Percy Jackson | Thalassophobia (Fear of Deep Bodies of Water)

Percy would be bummed out. Being the son of Poseidon, he loves to be in the water.

Everything about him— from his favorite hobbies to his happiest of memories, revolves around it and he wants to share that with you.

He plans on taking you on trips underwater; introduce you to the majestic marine creatures nobody else has seen before, unravel mysteries the sea has to offer, and form a big bubble where you can do whatever you want without being interrupted (ehem👀).

But how can he make all of it possible when your fear is literally all of those?

Percy would want to help you get over it. He wouldn't force you but he will at least try convince you.

If you refuse, he will respect that.

But if you accept his help, he'll try to take it one step at a time. Probably by starting to show you how the sea, no matter terrifying it is, is also beautiful place.

Leo Valdez | Pyrophobia (Fear of Fire)

Initially, Leo will laugh. I mean, who wouldn't?

You're a pyrophobic yet you're dating someone who is actually made out of fire?

After he notices that you're not joking, he will begin to be terrified for you. Expect that Leo will be extra careful when you are with him, especially when he is working on something.

His contraptions deemed too dangerous like explosives, will be kept somewhere far away.

As much as he thinks your presence will make Bunker 9 a lovelier workspace, he will understand if you don't want to go there. The essense of it is from the god of fire himself— I mean you need a blast of fire to enter.

He also will refrain himself from using his fire abilities in a fight, making do with his inventions instead.

While pyrophobia doesn't have specific causes, it may be possible that you had some traumatic experience relating to fire. Leo doesn't want to hurt you or make you feel worse.

Frank Zhang | Zoophobia (Fear of Animals)

Frank is confused. He doesn't know that the fear of animals is a thing and would wonder why you agreed on dating him in the first place.

He will ask you tons of questions; what caused your phobia? Are you afraid of all animals, a few, or just one? What can I do? After your conversation, he's going to search more information.

If you're afraid of one animal only, Frank will forget it ever existed. He will never talk of that animal again even when you're not around.

The others will joke about it. Example, if you're scared of snakes—

"What is a snake, Frank?"

"What's that, Leo? I have no idea, so let's never speak of it again."

In the case that you're afraid of all animals (this is a rare condition), he will not use his abilities and will train harder in combat.

When he really doesn't have a choice but to shapeshift in a fight, you two will separate with your friends' assurance that they got your back.

Frank is a nice guy but if someone made an offensive comment about your phobia or hardcore pranks involving that animal? Expect the wrath and rage of Mars.

Nico Di Angelo | Phasmophobia (Fear of Ghosts)

I'm sorry but Nico will slightly judge you. Really, a ghost? What are you, five?

Like Frank, he will ask you what caused your phobia.

He will feel terrible and comfort you if you have the same experience as Reina and Jason, who's loved ones turned into a mania. If it's because of horror movies, he will awkwardly pet your head.

You may think the subject is dropped but Nico will make sure that no ghost will ever come near you.

Having the infamous title 'Ghost King', he will not hesitate to torment and threaten the spirits who try to approach, scare, or talk to you.

He will take you on dates to McDonalds but he will not bring you to any 'ghost business'.

If you want to get rid of your phobia, Nico will summon ghosts who can entertain you; like singers, dancers, those that can do tricks, and stand up comedians.

He will also show you how easily he can bend any ghost to his will, proving to you that there's nothing to be afraid of.

[insertdisc5]

✨ The In Stars and Time Spoiler Q&A ✨

it's time. MASSIVE IN STARS AND TIME SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT. IT'S GONNA BE SO LONG. LET'S GO

I hope you are aware of The Secret Final Boss because I'm also gonna spoil the crab out of that. If you haven't,

1. Did you know the events for interacting with your souvenirs are randomized for some of them, and also change depending on how far you are in the game.

2. Did you know there's a way to show souvenirs to a certain character.

3. Did you know you can go back to Dormont during the Epilogue.

Figure that out, and come back here! Or watch a let's play online. You can also do that.

I will also try to adopt a ~mysterious cool voice with no exclamation points~ for Effect. Come with me on this journey.

Now. Questions time!

✨ Will you ever make a sequel to ISAT, or make a game in the same universe?

Nah. This was always intended to be The Story. This is your turn to imagine things now.

✨ But so what happened to the Country? What was its name? What about the wishes? What about the colors? What did Siffrin say as an openphrase to open the door to the King's room? What about--

I will not answer those. It's your turn.

✨ BUT THE COUNTRY AND THE COLORS AND THE WISHES

Ok fine. Here are some facts that I alluded to in-game, that I am confirming now.

-The Country disappearing and the events that made colors go away are not related.

-The colors disappeared a loooong time ago, which is why knowing they even existed is a relatively new find.

-A wish made everyone forget the Country.

I will ALSO say that ISAT's map operates on Final Fantasy/General Fantasy rules (i.e. in-universe locations are based off of real ones when it comes to culture, but are not one to one parallels, especially for geography), so no, the Country isn't based on the UK oh my god please do not say that to me again or im deleting ISAT out of your computers and putting legos at the foot of your bed. It's based on another place. You can figure it out, I believe in you.

✨ But why won't you give more info on what happened :(

Can you imagine if I did answer. Wouldn't that be a bummer, whatever my answer was. Sometimes things need to stay a mystery. And also, I don't want to answer <3

✨ Does the world Loop came from still exist after they left? Or is this a get mystery'd situation?

There is only One Timeline and it's the timeline that goes from the prologue to ISAT. Every timeline that gets rewound does not exist anymore, and that includes the prologue's timeline.

✨ What's the deal with Siffrin's dream at the start?

It's Siffrin's dream, but that doesn't mean our Siffrin is the main star.

✨ Is [specific missable game moment] canon?

Every moment that you personally experience in the game is canon.

✨ Is there a reason Siffrin remembers their name but the King doesn't?

What makes you think Siffrin does?

✨ At the very very end of the game, if you look out the window behind the Head Housemaiden, Sif mentions seeing an island in the distance. Is that his country?

It is. It's always been there, for the whole game. You can see it in the distance, too.

✨ Who was the King, before?

He was just a guy!

✨ With the King left remembering in the end, does that in any way change the redaction effect for other people in the world going forward?

That's a fun idea. Maybe!

✨ One thing that never really clicked for me is: Is the sweet smell Time Craft or Wish Craft? Or is the sweet smell TIme Craft and specifically the burnt sugar smell is Wish Craft? Other way around? Does this question even matter since without Wish Craft you can't attain Time Craft in the first place? (To me, yes.)

Wish Craft smells sweet. Time Craft doesn't have a smell per se, but it does do something.

✨ Does Mirabelle retain her immunity to being frozen in time after the events of the game or does it go away after the Head Housemaiden is saved? Or does it persist for a while and eventually fade away?

I imagine the immunity slowly faded away. But no one's left to do Time Craft, so it's a moot point anyway.

✨ How was Odile able to stop Siffrin from looping back during the fight against Siffrin?

In the Discord channel I stated that it's because "she's just that cool", but really, she does have access to some skills that heighten the efficacity of Rock/Paper/Scissors attacks, so it's not too much of a stretch to imagine she could lower the efficacity of Time Craft as well. In this last loop, while listening to Loop and observing, she could figure out Siffrin was looping way earlier than she could in even the Sus Quest, so she made plans. She is Very Smart <3

✨ Will you ever share everyone's full names?

That's artbook content <3

✨ In the ending, what happened to Siffrin's hat?

Flew away. It's gone now.

✨ Looking back at the original comics, and seeing how comic!sif has both eyes at the start of their loops, but in ending sequences is shown with his eye patch...did you ever consider making that concept of sif losing their eye a part of the main loop in either of your games? and if so, was there any reason why you decided against it?

Early on, I did think about making that whole event an event that happens during the loops, but quickly let that go since 1. it would be a pain to write and code (two different sets of Siffrin portraits!) and 2. if it happened, the player might want to look for a way to NOT make that happen and so 3. it would be a pain to write and code

✨ How was Siffrin's homelife before?

Pretty good!

✨ How old were Nille and Bonnie when they ran away? How old was Sif when their home got zapped?

Both were teens.

✨ How old IS everyone?

Siffrin is mid-late 20s. Mirabelle and Isabeau are early-mid 20s, with Isabeau being slightly older. Bonnie is a preteen. Odile is Too Old For This. Petronille, Bonnie's sister, is late teens-early 20s. You can ignore whatever I said in the prologue's artbook, whoever wrote this was Wrong!!!!!!!!!!

✨ Regarding the book that talks about someone who crafted a copy of themself using wish craft: is that meant to imply someone we know is the author (and/or the copy), or is it not directly related to any of em? or is it a "who knows ;)" situation where we can just speculate and theorize either way?

Please check the book again during Act 5! This applies to most items/map events by the way, like the pendant. You can check those during Act 5 and 6 for some fun new dialogue!

✨ Why are Siffrin's clothes so warm looking?

The Country got cold at night.

✨ What's up with Siffrin's pins?

They're made out of a special material. And also, they make Siffrin look cool <3

✨ I want to know the story behind Loop’s different eye shades!

They're blind in one eye. Also, fun foreshadowing <3

✨ What determines whether someone is paper/rock/scissors craft? Is it assigned naturally at birth or something else (and how do you find out)? Does it make you more inclined to use that specific craft or is anyone generally free to use whatever craft they want?

Astrology rules, It Just Is A Thing. Being Rock Type means it is way easier for you to do Rock Craft, but that doesn't mean you can't learn other types of craft, although it's way harder. Doing Craft of your type is instinct, doing Craft of another type would take some time and resarch.

✨What crimes has Odile committed before. I need to know.

Odile just smiles.

✨ Why did the King specifically target the House of Dormont?

I had a reason in mind, but adding it to the game would've added a layer of Explanation that really didn't need to be there. It's just a nice House.

✨ Who was Odile's hatecrush...

Dunno. It's your turn.

✨ What is loop's body situation. like is the surface of their "skin" solid? they did poke siffrin that one time, and we know they aren't cold, but...

I have some idea. But it's your turn!

✨ Would Sif still have looped if they hadn't made the wish he made in the beginning? As in, would Vaugarde's combined wish have made him loop until managing to beat the King?

No. But without time powers, you can imagine what would've happened next.

✨ During the Loop Hangout, how did the rest of the team make it all the way to The King? What about during Act 5?

During the Loop Hangout: with difficulty. During Act 5: Loop was there to guide them.

✨ Is Loop: 1. Actually comfortable with both he and they, but only gave the one pronoun to emphasize the distance? 2. Only using they/them because a large life event led to a shift in identity/ how they'd like to be perceived? or 3. time lops stole he from they they :(

Mostly that first one. But all three of those reasons have a bit of truth to them.

✨ Who cooked crab in the House of Change???

This is a very funny question! I've never thought about it. It's your turn.

✨ What are the Orbs that open the gate? Did the King create the Gate or was it there before?

(did not think about the orbs or the gate beyond "plot that proves there was a journey before") Stop Asking Questions,,,, It's your turn,,,,,,

✨ Bonnie's dialogue is *extremely* accurate to how overexcited kids talk, which is really rare to see. Was that something that took a lot of effort to achieve, or did it come naturally to you?

Thank you <3 I'm just that good. Really, Bonnie is an adult with no filter, and less general knowledge. I'm very glad I managed to write Bonnie well, especially since. I haven't talked to a kid. Since I was one myself

✨ The Spoilery Concept Art. Blease

oh yeah. here have it all. this is what I gave Mimi to do the animated trailer!

✨ So. What's everyone's favorite shade.

FINALLY the question. Plus I can say shade names now. White = darkless, Black = lightless. Light and Dark is like light grey/ dark grey. Oh my god I'm checking my notes and I wrote a small event I never used about hair dye colors like "midnight dark", "tomato grey", "snow light" past me that's so fucking funny

Anyway, Siffrin loves darkless, Mirabelle is more of a light shade lover, Isabeau loves that lightless (BECAUSE ITS FASHIONABLE OK), Odile likes darker shades, and Bonnie also loves that lightless (BECAUSE ITS AS DARK AS MY SOUL OK)

✨ Are there any bugs you found during developments that you've made into features?

Two! The first one was the ability to ask Loop to just silently hang out during Act 4. I messed up the code and the game softlocked there, with Siffrin and Loop sitting there silently. I thought it was very sweet. They deserve a little quiet time.

The second was in Act 5 - the House map had a lot of issues with the Act 5 map bringing you back to the normal House map. So one of the testers got brought to the normal House map and didn't notice, and interacted with the Mirror on Floor 3, and it gave them the normal interaction with everyone seeing the mirror and taking a picture, and when they went to look at the picture in their inventory, it gave them the actual Act 5 picture. A little bit after they realized the game bugged out, and told me about it, and begged me to keep that in because they were very unsettled by it. So here it is! Beforehand, it was just Siffrin silently taking a picture, so I'm glad I changed it.

✨ Did you ever have emotional difficulty writing the more sensitive parts of the script, like Siffrin’s intrusive/negative thoughts, for one reason or another? Moreover, did you worry the script may be darker than your initial vision for it anticipated?

Not really. The Mirabelle and Odile hangout scenes were the hardest scenes by far because I really wanted to get them right, but everything else was about the same amount of difficulty. And actually, I wanted to go a little bit darker for the script, but I was worried it was going to be too dark... When it comes to the dagger event, I had a whole tangent about Siffrin thinking about the best way to strike, so to speak, but I deleted it because it was getting A Little Too Detailed. T rating come back to me

✨ For the questions you WON'T answer, did you have your own answers while making the game? Or were they left blank?

Some of them I do, some of them I don't!

✨ I loved this game and I want to replay it but I don't want Siffrin to go through everything again!

Here's a little fun fact I decided: if you hit the credits, you helped a Siffrin escape. If you start a new game, you are creating a new Siffrin that you can emotionally tortu-IIIIIIII MEAN, a new Siffrin that you can help. Do not worry about your Siffrins they are fine

✨ A lot of those answers ended up being "It's your turn", huh.

Yea <3 The answers to some of those questions ARE there if you look. Some just aren't. But you can imagine whatever you want. It's your turn! I finished the game! I'm done working! It's your turn!!!

✨ I loved ISAT and it made me feel so many feelings!

Thank you so much. I'm sorry if you sent a message or ask and I didn't answer it. I read every single one and cherish it! Thank you for playing and thank you for writing me a message!!!!! When I get a little down I look at all of those and I feel better. Thank you. I'm sorry I can't answer them all.

✨ What will you work on next?

I have a project I'm currently in the preproduction stages of. I don't want to talk about it until I feel like I have some stuff to show. Plus I still have to make the ISAT artbook and some other stuff, so it won't be for a while. Nonetheless, I hope you will enjoy it!!!

[with-my-calamitous-love]

YOU’RE IN THE KITCHEN HUMMING

osamu dazai x reader

you show dazai the beauty in domestic life

inspired by sweet nothing

when dazai pictured his future, he pictured it short.

a mastermind of people, he knew that that the universe would eventually catch up to him. to his crimes, his wrongdoings, and all of his faults. truth be told, he pictured himself in some sort of prison, bleeding out on a stake of revenge, or simply just gone. he never exactly rejected death in the first place. he accepted it with open arms.

so to think he’d find himself, washing dishes from leftover marinated crab meat and glasses stained with sake while you do the laundry is more of a surprise than anything else. every now and then he looks over his shoulder, watching how you handle the delicate fabric of his brown vest with such care. you always use unscented soap. though you certainly have the money to buy lavender, or bergamot, the two of you enjoyed the simplicity of regular soap. because then, it has the scent of home.

but what exactly does home smell like? for so many years, he couldn’t answer that question. how do you match a scent to something that doesn’t exist? maybe he’d say it smelt like the port mafia hallways, or the smell of old bandages. maybe dazai felt that home smelled like it wasn’t there to stay.

now, home smells like you. it smells like the face mask you make him use because he takes shit care of himself. it smells like your bare shoulder in the morning, the patch of skin he always insists he kisses you awake on. it smells like your laughter, your smile, your beautiful eyes. you were home.

“samu?” you quip, pulling your boyfriend out of his trances. he blinks, his lazily draped arms subconsciously tightening around you.

“yes bella?” he asks, his voice lazy and his brown eyes tired from the day. if he could melt and simply become apart of you, he would. you’re the only part of himself he actually seems to love, anyway.

“were you listening?” you chuckle, knowing that he’s a thinker. he loves you for understanding that, for knowing the signs when he’s lost in his own brain. his nail biting, his wandering eyes, his occasional hums. you know it all, maybe better than dazai knows it about himself. you’d give anything to see what he’s thinking, the beautiful equations in his brain.

his lips curve into a smile, refocusing on you as you laid in his lap all tuckered out. “i’m sorry.”

you sigh, half disappointed but half too-love-struck-to-care. he pulls you flush against his chest, letting you listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. oh, how beautiful it sounds.

“i was saying we should go down to that new bakery.” you hum, not minding to recount your experiences for him. “atsushi told me kyouka really likes the crepes there.”

you know he’s listening this time, evident by the way his slender fingers travel through your hair. he loves the silky feel of it, how it may be the softest thing he’s ever felt after years of strangling throats and pulling triggers.

he melts onto that couch with you. the only other sound that can be heard is the occasional drip and drop from the sink. he makes a mental note to check on it in the morning, making sure its not leaking too much.

in his experience, everyone was up to something. no person was just kind for the sake of being kind. and for all his life, people wanted things from dazai. he was used and shaped into a demon when all he’s ever wanted was just to disappear. he insists he’s fine, and that this is just the person he is. he assures everyone that the voices he hears, in and external, don’t bother him at all.

but to you he can admit, that sometimes, he’s just too soft for all of it.

you built a home from the ground up with him. you sheltered and fed a man who never knew what it was like to be loved without condition. all you ever wanted from dazai was nothing. sweet, sweet nothings. and he knew he’d give you everything he is and more in return for that love, for those sweet nothings.

[fvsm4x]

☆FIRST LOVE [Gojo Satoru]

☆ SUMMARY: Months have passed since you slept with Gojo. And during that time, gojo seemed to avoid you, hurting your feelings in exchange without knowing.

— C.W: Gojo Satoru x female reader , angst to fluff

— WORD COUNT: 2k+

— TAGLIST: @starlightanyaaa @froufrousnowman @101strawberries101 @dazaisfavgf @the-lazy-perfectionist @prettyfacedream

JJK MLIST | GOJO SATORU MLIST

It has been a considerable amount of time since the last interaction you had with Gojo. Days turned into weeks, and then a whole month passed by. And now, two months have gone by since that unforgettable night when the two of you shared an intimate connection after getting a little too tipsy in a bar.

However, ever since that night, something changed. Gojo started to distance himself from you, avoiding any kind of interaction and making a conscious effort to stay out of your way. It's as if he's intentionally ignoring your presence, and any attempts to reach out to him through calls or texts are met with silence, with the messages sitting in the "delivered" status but never being read.

The pain in your heart is almost unbearable. You find yourself constantly questioning what went wrong, racking your brain for any possible misstep or disappointment that could have caused this sudden shift in Gojo's behavior. The thought that the night you shared was a mistake weighs heavily on your mind, causing immense emotional distress and self-doubt.

What makes this pain even more agonizing is the fact that you have harbored deep feelings for Gojo since your teenage years. From the moment you first laid eyes on him, there was an undeniable attraction and admiration that only grew stronger with time. The realization that he may not feel the same way about you is a devastating blow to your heart and soul.

But you find it difficult to place the blame solely on Gojo. After all, he is not just an ordinary person. In the world of jujutsu sorcerers, he holds immense importance and influence. He is widely recognized as the strongest sorcerer, possessing unparalleled strength and abilities. Not only that, but he has been blessed with not just one, but two curse techniques, making him a force to be reckoned with. His very existence has the power to shift the delicate balance of the world.

In contrast, you see yourself as someone insignificant in comparison. While you do possess the ability to see curses, just like Gojo, you feel like a mere observer in the grand tapestry of the jujutsu world. You don't hold any significant position or power, and you struggle to find a sense of usefulness or importance in comparison to someone like Gojo.

But little did you know, gojo had a reason for doing so.

Ever since that night you two shared, gojo started to harbor feelings, he had never felt before, it felt weird. As if butterflies were flying around in his stomach and his heart always skipping a beat when he sees you.

The mere thought of you brought a deep blush to his cheeks, and he couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and nervousness whenever he was in your presence. It was as if his entire world had been turned upside down, and he couldn't quite comprehend the intensity of these newfound emotions.

He had never experienced this kind of feeling before, and he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. It was a strange sensation that consumed him, making him feel like he was on the verge of death if he didn't see you. Thinking he might be sick, he sought out Shoko and poured out his troubles to her.

Sitting in front of Shoko, who calmly sipped her warm coffee, he couldn't contain his panic any longer. "Shoko, I think something's wrong with me. I feel like I'm dying!" he exclaimed, jumping up from his chair and pacing back and forth in the room.

"The mighty Gojo Satoru is sick? That's a first," she joked, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. It was rare to see the strongest sorcerer in such a state of distress.

"I'm serious, Shoko! Every time I see her, I feel strange... My face turns red, my stomach does somersaults, and my heart skips a beat!" he whined, desperation evident in his voice. "Am I going to die, Shoko?"

Shoko looked at him with wide eyes, taking a moment to process his words before asking, "Do you mean y/n?"

Gojo nodded, his expression filled with worry. "Yeah..."

Setting her coffee down on a nearby table, Shoko turned to Gojo with a mischievous smirk. "Oh no! You‘re going to die satoru." she sarcastically exclaimed.

Gojo's eyes dropped immediately as his panic intensified. "What? But I can't die yet... I'm still young."

Narrowing her eyes at him, Shoko chuckled softly. Gojo approached her, placing his hands on either side of her, trapping her against the chair. "Why are you laughing?!" he shouted, his grip on the chair tightening.

"Do you want to know the name of your sickness, Satoru?" Shoko asked, leaning against her palm.

"Of course!" he replied eagerly.

"You're lovesick," she stated matter-of-factly.

Gojo's eyes widened at her words. Lovesick? Did that mean he was in love with you? The mere thought of it caused his face to flush a deep shade of red. "W-what!? No, I'm not in love with her," he denied, his voice wavering.

"Look at you, all embarrassed... I can't believe the all-mighty Gojo Satoru has finally fallen in love," Shoko sighed. "I feel bad for y/n."

"What am I supposed to do?! I've never been in love before," Gojo whined, his distress evident.

"Well, talk to her more often, take her out on dates... I don't know much about love, I've never experienced it myself, who knows maybe she‘s feeling the same." Shoko suggested.

"But... I've been ignoring her for the past two months," Gojo confessed.

"Oh," Shoko facepalmed. "Why are you so stupid.“

„I‘m not stupid!“

Suddenly, the door swung open, and you entered the room, clutching some medical papers in your arms. "Shoko, I got the-" you began, but your words trailed off as you looked up and took in the scene before you.

Your heart momentarily stopped as you saw Shoko sitting in the chair, with Gojo leaning over her, his hands on either side of the chair, effectively trapping her inside. A wave of unease washed over you. Had you interrupted something? They were too close for your comfort, and you couldn't help but wonder if there was something going on between them. Was that why Gojo had been ignoring you?

The pain in your heart was palpable, and your once bright smile faded into a crestfallen expression. With a heavy sigh, you cast your gaze downward, unable to bear the sight before you any longer. "Sorry for interrupting," you managed to utter, your voice laced with disappointment and a hint of resignation. "I'll bring the papers back later." Without waiting for a response, you turned on your heels, your footsteps heavy with a mix of sadness and frustration, and closed the door with a loud thud.

"Wait!" you heard a voice call out from behind the door, but you continued walking away, unable to bear the sight of them together. The sound of their voices faded as you distanced yourself from the room.

Meanwhile, inside the room, Gojo removed himself from the chair and took a step back, his gaze fixed on the closed door where you had stood just moments ago. His thoughts were interrupted by a voice, breaking through his contemplation.

"Don't drag me into this," Shoko's voice cut through the silence, her eyes boring into Gojo's. He met her gaze with a glare, unsure of how to respond.

"She probably misunderstood. Go talk to her before it's too late," Shoko advised, her tone firm. "Now, whoosh," she added, pointing her finger towards the door. "Get out."

—-

Over the next few days, something strange happened. Instead of Gojo avoiding you, you found yourself avoiding him. Even though Shoko had encouraged him to talk to you, he still kept his distance. Deep down, Gojo knew he was in love with you, but he didn't know how to act around you.

He was scared of doing something wrong and embarrassing himself. He couldn't quite grasp the fact that he was in love with you. He thought it was just a small crush that would eventually fade away, but it didn't. Every day, he felt more desperate to talk to you, but he couldn't bring himself to approach you.

Then, one day, you bumped into him while he was on his way to a mission. You couldn't take it anymore. Your heart hurt every time you wanted to talk to him but held back. The constant avoidance had taken a toll on you, and the pain of unspoken affection had become unbearable. You couldn't bear the uncertainty anymore and wanted to confess your feelings to Gojo, even if it meant facing rejection. You just wanted closure, hoping that even if he didn't feel the same way, you could move on from this torment.

So, there you were, standing behind Gojo as he walked towards the car that would take him on his mission. He was avoiding you again, but this time, you decided to take a leap of faith. You called out to him, "Satoru!" He flinched and turned to meet your gaze.

"Satoru," you spoke with a shaky breath, "You know, back in our teenage years, I had this crush on you. Silly, right? I mean, I never thought it would lead anywhere. We were friends, and I kept my feelings under wraps. Fast forward to that night we spent together – it felt like a breakthrough. I let myself hope that maybe, just maybe, there was something more between us. But then you started avoiding me like I had the plague, and it hit hard. But, you know, I tried to brush off the awkwardness, thinking maybe I misread things. Yet, every time we crossed paths, it felt like there was this unspoken tension, a lingering question that neither of us dared to ask. I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted, and it was driving me crazy. So, here's the deal, Satoru – If you don't see us as more than friends, I want you to say it. I'm not asking for poetic rejection; I just need the truth. So, Satoru, whether it's a yes or a no, I just need to hear it. I'm not looking for pity or grand gestures, just a straightforward answer.“

Your breath hitched with each word. Your gaze, usually steady, faltered, found solace in staring at the ground, avoiding the intensity of his eyes.

Gojo's eyes widened in surprise as your words hit him. He turned around completely, staring at you in disbelief. His breath hitched, and he felt his heart racing unexpectedly. Your confession catched him off guard,

In an instant, Gojo's initial disbelief transformed into a genuine smile, a glimmer of happiness breaking through. Without a second thought, he closed the distance, wrapping you in a tight embrace. Your attempt to speak was interrupted by his sudden hug,

"I've been an idiot for avoiding this for so long." He whispered

You tried to gently push him back, insisting, "I just need an answer, satoru" but Gojo held on,

"That scene you saw with Shoko wasn't what it seemed," he admitted, a sheepish smile forming. "I was actually talking to her about my feelings for you. I realized I've been an idiot for not realizing it sooner." He continued, "After that night we spent together, I started feeling all weird – butterflies and my heart doing somersaults. I thought I was sick or something, so I avoided you. Stupid, right? But now, I don't want to run away from it anymore. I like you, Y/N."

Your eyes widened at Gojo's unexpected confession. The weight of the unspoken feelings suddenly lifted, "Wait, you... like me?" you stammered, trying to process his words. Gojo chuckled, his hand rubbing the back of his neck

"Yeah, more than I thought. I was just too dense to realize it. And I'm sorry for avoiding you; I thought I was going crazy with those feelings."

Gojo, still smiling, took a step closer. "So, how about we stop avoiding and start enjoying these feelings?" he suggested, his gaze softening. Without waiting for a response, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a gentle, yet lingering kiss.

[cressidagrey]

The Ties that Bind - Chapter 1

Summary: 

Shadowsingers were made, not born. Made out of trauma and loneliness and desperation.

So when Cilla and Azriel meet and their shadows entwine, they both meet the only other person that could understand these particular childhood scars.

The last thing Azriel had ever expected from his mate, however, was for her to have a surprising connection to his brother.

Warnings: 

My usual amount of Rhys bashing, Low Self Esteem, Mention of child abuse, Azriel threatens to unalive somebody

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

There weren’t many Illyrians in Velaris. And even less Illyrians who clearly had no clue how flying worked. 

Azriel watched the spectacle from a safe distance away. 

He didn’t really have a choice about that after all. 

Not if he wanted to enjoy a cup of tea out on his porch. The porch of that little comfortable lake cabin right in the mountains of Velaris. 

He had settled in for a Sunday afternoon with nothing to do for once. No pressing issues, no intelligence to sort through that couldn’t wait for a while…just him and his thoughts…and her . 

It was a young female, probably just on the cusp between girlhood and growing into an adult, with the lankiness of her limbs not yet fully subsided. 

Azriel did give her credit for being smart enough to find herself one of the mountain lakes in the mountains of Velaris…which had been a brilliant thing to do because every time she threw herself off one of the cliffs on the other side of the lake, she plummeted right into that icy water, wings trying and failing horribly to keep her adrift. 

It was probably less smart to do this right now, however,  when winter was just around the corner. Nobody was stupid enough to go swimming now…not if they didn’t want to turn into an icicle. 

Still, every time without fail, she somehow managed to drag herself back out of the water, to dry land and up the cliffs to do it again. Azriel could respect that kind of single-minded determination. 

It reminded him of himself…of his own first few attempts at flying…after he had gotten out of that cauldron-forsaken cell. 

He couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to this girl…what had happened to her that made her learn to fly now , when that was something that should have happened years ago…something that should have been natural to her…

She could extend her wings fully, so he didn’t think that she had been clipped…though maybe somebody had done a truly horrible hack job at it and that explained why her wings didn’t seem to hold her body weight…How did an Illyrian female end up in Velaris in the first place? 

Question over questions and he didn’t know the answers to it. 

It was peculiar…And it was making him sit up straight, watching her clamber up that cliff again, the grey dress she wore soaked with water and clinging to her figure. 

What had brought her here? Was this a…He didn’t think that she knew that he was there and watching her…He had warded this house with everything he had, had thrown every fucking glamour at it that he could, making it impossible to be seen if somebody didn’t know that it existed…and not many people knew that it existed in the first place. 

It had become his…little escape. Far away from the House of Wind or the River House…far enough that nobody would search for him here, but near enough that…well. 

If they needed him, Azriel was just around the corner. 

And he could get some sleep in the silence of the mountains surrounding him. 

Cassian and Nesta were never going to manage to be quiet. And quite frankly, that was a very particular kind of torture after last Winter Solstice. 

His High Lord had made himself very clear…and Azriel…well, that stubbornness that had meant that he had clung to Mor for 500 years…he couldn’t manage the same anymore. 

The very heart of him was exhausted. Exhausted from always, always not being the one chosen. Exhausted from never seemingly being good enough, never measuring up. 

So silently, quietly, Azriel had let it go. Let go of wishful dreams and stolen touches…Let go of that particular wish. 

He would never have a mate. He would never have a wife. He would just exist in his loneliness. 

It was better for everybody involved. 

Regardless of how envy burned deep in his chest…regardless of jealousy, regardless of what he wanted . Azriel should have figured out centuries ago that he never got what he wanted anyway. 

So why hope anymore? 

Why hope and have that hope dashed and have his heart broken again? And again and again and again?

Why not simply accept it? Why not try to make the best out of it? 

If he would end up alone, he could do it on his terms. Thus, that charming lake cabin with only one room he actually used. 

He liked it. Scratch that. Azriel loved it. 

Loved the quietness, loved how roomy and bright it was, the perfect antithesis to all of the years spent in that cell. 

And if he made this his home… his home …well, only he needed to be content here. 

His home. 

Nobody else needed to like it. Just him. His and his alone. The perfect place to be lonely all on his own. 

Master!   His shadows snapped at that moment and he startled. She hasn’t come up yet.

What? he demanded, his gaze immediately snapping up to the lake. 

No trace of her anyway. 

She jumped and hit her head. 

Why didn’t you fucking say something? he demanded harshly. Great. Now he needed to rescue her.

Definitely not how he wanted to spend his Sunday afternoon doing. 

She must have managed to catch an updraft, because he didn’t need to pull her from the depths of that lake. Though maybe that would have been better…It would have left her with fewer scrapes. 

Instead, she had landed in a heap in the shallows of the lake, water just knee high and Azriel hissed at the ice-cold water lapping against his skin as he gathered her up. 

She was unconscious, her skin pale and ice-cold to the touch. Nearly frozen solid. 

He pulled her into his arms, lifting her up and carrying her the few feet to dry ground, a hand immediately finding her pulse point. 

He looked at her face, at the black hair and skin that was pale and clammy and…

Oh. 

His. His . 

There she was. 

After 500 years, there she was. 

He touched her with shaking hands, with reverence. Cupping her cheek, feeling her rattling breath against his scarred hands, turning her to her side as she started coughing. 

Still unconscious…a wound on her forehead bleeding nearly sluggishly. 

The water she had inhaled came back up and he made sure that she didn’t swallow it back down nearly automatically, unable not to stare at her. 

His…His mate?

His mate. 

Just a slip of a female, small and delicate, cheekbones and clavicles standing out sharply. She could use some more fat on her, to be completely honest. She looked… emaciated , not just simply thin. Starved . 

And if her body hadn’t been the first clue…her wings were the second. He stared at the scars that crisscrossed where they protruded from her back…He knew scars like that. He himself had scars like that. Her wings had been bound to her back so tightly that whatever rope had been used had rubbed at the delicate skin covering the bones…rubbing it raw. 

He swallowed at that realisation, the fury in his chest bursting wide open. It wasn’t the only scar on these wings…there were more. No wonder she had difficulty flying. It was so bad that he wondered if she would ever be able to fly at all. 

Who had done this to her? 

If he ever found out, he would plunge Truthteller into their chest and make them regret ever having been born. 

His mate coughed again, sounding miserable. “You’ll be fine,” Azriel promised her fiercely. If he had a single thing to say about it…she would be fine. He would make sure that she would be fine. She was his now. 

His mate. 

The one person that he was allowed to care for…the one person he could pour all that attention and love onto that he normally held so tightly buried in his chest. His mate . 

She was his and he was going to make sure that she was treated properly now. 

“Come on, Sweetheart, we’ll get you warm and dry,” Azriel promised her, picking her up again. She weighed next to nothing to him as he cradled her into his arms and made his way back to his cabin. 

Warm and dry and he would do something against the wound on her head and the scrapes on the rest of her. He couldn’t do anything against how thin she was, but he could probably manage to scrounge up some soup or something… Anything and everything so that she would be fine. His mate. 

His . 

Azriel reached his cabin seconds later, putting her down next to the mattress he used as a bed.

He really should have invested in some fucking furniture, but with a regrettable lapse of judgment he hadn’t. 

He hadn’t because just for him, he hadn’t seen a need for it other than the necessities. A mattress was more than enough, no reason for a bed frame. No reason to put that mattress in an actual bedroom, if one corner of his living room and kitchen would work just as well. 

Well, he could change that. He would change that. His mate deserved a bed, and a proper closet and everything else her heart desired. 

He would make sure she would want for nothing. 

Get her out of her dress and underneath the blankets, he told the shadow sharply, who for once seemed to be silent in pure shock. 

He wasn’t going to touch her anywhere. Not like this. Not more than absolutely necessary. 

Instead, he got himself dry, a pot of water boiling on the stove, all the vegetables he had stocked in the cooling cabinet and the chicken he had bought to roast thrown in right along with it. 

Then Azriel raided his stock of healing supplies, bringing them to her bedside. 

Now, safely dressed in an old dry shirt of his and tucked under every blanket his shadows could find in the house, her skin was still cold but no longer icy. Thawing. 

He dabbed at the wound on her forehand and wrapped the scrapes that covered her hands…hands that were blistering and covered with a rash. Hands that were definitely used to harsh physical work. 

These weren’t the hands of a lady. These were the hands of somebody that worked for a living. 

Azriel tucked her hands under the blankets with the rest of her, and gently tucked a straw curl back behind her ear…and then came up short when he realised that…that her ear…it was pointed . Not the usual rounded ear of a pure-blood Illyrian. Pointed like a High Fae. 

Oh . 

She must be half Illyrian, half High Fae. 

Exceedingly Rare… but not impossible. Rhys was the proof of that. 

Master! He startled a second time, glaring at his shadows. Why did they keep startling them? And why were they screaming at him in pure excitement? 

Only then, he saw the tendril of shadows. Hesitantly twirling out from her hair. 

Not one of his. He didn’t know how he knew that, but he knew. 

This wasn’t one of his shadows, this wasn’t…

Oh. 

Was she…

Are they… hers? he asked, nearly hesitantly. Was she…just like him? A shadowsinger ?

He had never gotten to meet another one. He had never…There had never been anybody that had explained to him how they worked, how he could master them…all of it…he had learnt through hard work and determination and not often the feeling that he was truly going insane. 

He had never thought that he would get to meet another shadowsinger ever. He had thought that maybe it was just a quirk of fate that also in this one ability, he would be unique, removed from everybody around him…Given that was how he felt any day of the week. 

Yes, they are, his shadows answered excitedly, a few tendrils of his slowly approaching hers…that seemingly wilted away, hesitantly. He wanted to reach out and cradle them in his hands…make sure that her shadows and his mate understood that no harm would come to her from him. 

How high were the chances that his mate, the one the mother picked for him, would be a shadowsinger just like him? 

He swallowed.  

Ask them for her name? he requested from his shadow hesitantly, wondering if they were able to communicate with hers…if he could talk to her shadows…if she could talk to his…

Cilla, the shadows answered after a moment. Cilla . Her name was Cilla. 

Then very quietly:  They are begging you not to hurt her. 

Somebody thrust a knife into his heart and twisted. 

Of course, they would ask that. Of course. 

They didn’t trust him at all. Why should they?

She wouldn’t be a shadowsinger if she hadn’t spent years feeling so alone that the shadows started talking back to her. Why should she trust him?

I am not going to hurt her. I swear that to them on my life, he promised fiercely. He would not hurt her. Never. 

She was his mate . 

He would spend the next few centuries trying desperately to make sure that he was worthy of her, nothing else. He was not going to hurt her. Not if he had any choice in that matter. 

His mate. His mate . He was going to take care of her, even when it was the last thing he did. 

Nobody was ever going to hurt her again, not if Azriel had a single thing to say about it. 

He was going to draw his line into the sand just like Enalius had down all these millennia before him at the Pass. And whoever would cross it, they would rue that day. 

It was easy enough to tug harshly at the dormant thread Rhys had long ago left in his mind…easy enough to let his brother into the ante-chamber of his mind once he had his attention. 

I won’t be available next week. 

Are you asking me for a vacation, Az? Rhys asked with some amusement. No. He wasn’t asking. 

He was going to take the next week and get to know his mate and nobody was going to stop him. Unless she told him no. 

It’s not a request. This is me informing you that I won’t be available, Azriel gave back, his voice even. 

He could nearly hear Rhys’ mental sigh. Is this still about you and Elain? Rhys asked him, long sufferingly.  

There is no me and Elain, Rhysand, Azriel shot back. Rhys had taken care of that. Though he probably did owe his High Lord a bottle of some ridiculous expensive alcoholic beverage for that. No Elain, which meant he was free to conduct his love life however he saw fit. Which meant that if Cilla was willing to give him a chance…

Then what it is about? Rhys asked him. 

Azriel could tell the truth. But he had absolutely no fucking want to do that. Rhys had made himself very clear last Winter Solstice. And Azriel didn’t want anybody to meddle. Cilla was his mate and nobody else’s and the only thing that mattered was what she wanted. Not what anybody else thought about her or their Mating Bond or anything else. 

I have some things to take care of that need my undivided attention, he said, his voice hard. Making it very obvious that Azriel wasn’t interested in answering any questions about it. 

And you couldn’t tell me that weeks ago? 

No. 

Fine. 

It’s not like it would have mattered to him if Rhysand had disagreed. Azriel was still not going to come in next week. 

It wasn’t like took many days off in the last few centuries. He was probably long overdue for a vacation. 

A soft noise pulled him away from that particular line of thinking and he looked down at Cilla, her nose scrunched up, shifting slightly. 

“It’s alright,” he promised her, keeping his voice calm and easy. “Can you open your eyes for me, Cilla?” he asked and one eye blinked open…showing him a pair of dark brown pupils.

 “There you go,” he praised her, “Good, Sweetheart.”

For one moment she looked at him utterly petrified, not understanding at all what was going on. Just a second later, he felt her fear and terror pour all over the fledgling Mating Bond, that must have just snapped for her. 

One hand flayed out and one of his shadows caught it, her eyes jumping from him to the shadows and then back again. He watched as she seemingly tried to work through it, one of her shadows gently caressing her cheek, clearly calming her down.  

“You…You’re just like me,” she whispered, her voice rough from disuse, wings twitching with something. 

“I am,” he agreed softly. 

And then, he saw the shadow curl behind her ear, whispering something in her ear. And then: “Mate?” she whispered, staring at him, her eyes wide, the expression on her face wanting and desperate and a thousand other things. 

His mouth went dry. He managed a nod. 

And then to his surprise, she pounced. There was nothing graceful about it as she clung to him, nearly slapping her with one of her wings, as he pulled her against his chest. 

“I am your mate,” he agreed with a weak chuckle.

Hers.

[itgirl-111]

Awareness creates reality so I don't let random bitches tell me what is true and what is false. I don't let anything external of me tell me what is true and what is false. All I'm ever experiencing is myself so I don't let anything outside of me affect me. Everything is my awareness. Things wouldn't exist in my reality without my awareness in the first place so being the victim literally doesn't make sense when I'm awareness creating everything I want. Love, money, beauty, abundance, happiness, respect, I'm all of those things and those things wouldn't exist without me. Nothing could ever exist without my awareness, so I'm literally a god. I am a god of my reality therefore I have all the omnipotent power. I am the omnipotent power. I literally am god. I am the ones that get to choose I'm the one that gets to decide I'm the one who assigns meaning to everything I'm the one who gets to control my reality Im the one who decides how things and people show up for me. Because I am god. My power is literally so tremendous and infinite. IDC what it is, if I can see it in my mind, if it comes to my awareness, it exists and therefore I am free to have it, it's all mine. I never question my own power I never doubt my own power. I. Secure, I am Stable, I am relaxed in my own power knowing that I'm the god, I'm the limitless creator of my reality, a law of assumption prodigy, manifesting, void and shifting prodigy so I could never fucking doubt my own power. I am always in control no matter what. Actually, I have ALWAYS BEEN in control since day one. I have always been a master manifestor since day one. Being powerful, unshakeable it's in my veins, it's in my DNA to be a god and get everything that I want. It's in my DNA to always be in control. Manifesting isn't a 5 minute thing it's literally how life works it's how your brain works and has always been working since day one, so I've already been manifesting my whole life. It's easy to get what I want. Everything in my life is so so perfect. Everything everyone is me pushed out. People show up based on my assumptions about them. No one has free will, in my reality, treating me with love and respect is the only possibility that exists by default. Because why wouldn't they? Because I'm talented I'm top tier I'm amazing I'm lovely I'm a ball of sunshine. Shifting, void and manifestation is way too easy for me + it's so fun. No one and nothing can bring me down, no one and nothing can bring my confidence down, no one and nothing can decide for me but me, no one and nothing can limit me or make me doubt my own power in MY reality. Everything working out in my favour is the only possibile outcome that exists by default. I'm the validation, I'm the confirmation, the moment it comes into awareness it is already done. The 3d and my awareness is the same. Everything is same to manifest. I want it I got it. I am the person who always gets what she wants. I identify as the person who gets what she wants. I am a magnet for all I want.